


Safe With You

by pillowcreek



Category: The Bridge (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Siblings, Angst, Blood and Violence, Break the Cutie, Character Death, Coma, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Physical Abuse, Pining, Slow Burn, Violence, so much fucking angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillowcreek/pseuds/pillowcreek
Summary: Their family was said to be cursed with more misfortune than they could handle. Unfortunately, they're about to have a whole lot more of it.The Bridge Royalty AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna preface this with just a blanket apology for how terrible I am to like, everyone in this fic. Whoops.

Fairy tales begin with Once Upon A Time… 

This is not a fairy tale. 

This is a story that begins and ends with grief. 

More specifically it begins in the chambers of Queen Molly of Triton. She had just given birth to a baby boy, after a long and painful night of labour. The baby was healthy, crying in the arms of a midwife, but the queen was dead. King David sat next to her bed, mourning the loss of his wife and his people’s queen. 

After a moment, he rose and approached the midwife, who carefully handed the king his newborn son. The king stared down at the baby, who was currently a wrinkled, ugly little thing. Or at least that’s what he looks like at the beginning of this story. He would grow up to be rather handsome with round cheeks, dark brown skin, eyes the colour of bronze, and thick black curls. But at the moment he is just a wailing bundle of cloth that wasn’t particularly impressive in any way. 

The king loved him though. In his eyes, this child could do no wrong. Not only was he the child of the woman he loved, her last gift to him, he was an heir. A way to continue the bloodline. And the king believed that it could end there. He could raise this child to be a suitable heir and he would not need to remarry. He could live his life having only ever married the woman he loved more than anything else in the world. 

You see, this king had been lucky enough to marry for love, something that few of his rank got to do. And he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to marry a stranger just for the sake of an alliance. 

But you don’t always get what you want in this world and peace doesn’t last forever. Before long, border disputes with one of the neighbouring countries got to the point where an alliance was necessary in order to prevent all-out war. And so the king married Princess Constance of Morpheus. 

Before long, the new queen became pregnant with the king’s second child. She gave birth to a lovely baby girl who the king would love just as much as the first child. The girl would grow up to look very similar to her mother, with the same light brown skin, brown-black hair, and eyes the colour of copper. 

The prince and princess grew up beloved by all in the land. They were incredibly close and could often be heard calling out to one another in the palace gardens. The prince learned how to fight, how to lead an army and how to lead civilians. The princess learned how to be diplomatic, how to reason with people and when to compromise. 

Tragedy would strike before she would become good at it. 

When the princess was nine years old, the queen took her to visit her aunt in Morpheus. On their way home to Triton, their carriage was attacked by bandits. When the guards found the chariot the next day, it was empty save for broken glass from the smashed windows and a note pinned to the inside of the door with a dagger. The note read: 

_We have your daughter._

The king sent guards into the forests of Triton to search for his daughter. They found nothing. The queen and guards who had been travelling with the pair were missing, presumed dead. 

The king never gave up hope though. He continued to send out search parties to every corner of his kingdom, searching desperately for the lost princess. In the meantime, he kept a closer eye on his son. The boy was growing up fast and Triton needed to know now more than ever that they would have a strong leader to rule them after the king had passed on. There was evil lurking in their woods - they could all feel it - and the prince needed to be ready to fight it. 

What followed next was five years of sorrow, of peasants being afraid to gather firewood too deep in the woods and keeping their children on a tight leash lest they be carried off like the princess. It was five years of hushed voices in the palace, of servants whispering rumours to themselves as they worked. Some said that the prince wouldn’t be able to take over for the king, that he was too weak, too gentle when he fought the other soldiers. Others said that perhaps the bandit attack had been planned, a way for the king to get rid of the wife and child that he had never wanted. 

But those whispers came from the lowest ranks of the palace staff. For it was the highest ones, those closest to the royal family, who knew more of the truth. And there the whispers were a little different. 

They were whispers that the king wasn’t strong enough. That the loss of two wives and his daughter had left him broken on the inside, unable to lead while his daughter’s unknown location hung over his head. Others whispered that the prince was doing more work than was expected of a prince that age, that he would be taking over from his father sooner than expected. There were rumours of an abdication planned for the prince’s twenty-first birthday, when he would come of age and could take over the throne from his father. 

How accurate those rumours were was known only to the royals and their personal guards. 

But the rumours were certainly true in one sense: nothing stays the same forever. 

* * *

The tent she was being held in was small, though they had actually laid out some hay for her to sleep on for once. And it wasn’t like a larger tent would have made much of a difference: she had nothing to keep in it. As it was, all that was in her tent was the hay for her bed and the wooden table that she was currently chained to the leg of. 

The brown dress they had put her in that morning scratched against her skin as she shifted positions, trying to get comfortable. Her stomach growled as she did so, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. She wondered how long it would be before they would move her again. It felt like she was being moved almost every week now. She hoped that meant that they were scared. 

She wanted them to be terrified. She wanted the fear to eat them alive, to consume every part of their flesh like it had hers for the past five years. 

She wanted to see them burn. 

She tugged at the chains holding her to the table, but only succeeded in digging the metal into the welts on her wrists. She hissed in pain and drew her hands closer to her chest, wishing that she could rub her wrists to try to relieve some of the pain. It probably wouldn’t help much, but it might do something. If only. 

There was a sudden burst of shouting from outside the tent and she drew back instinctively in fear as one of the bandits came bursting in. He was burly with a thick beard and his voice was gravelly when he spoke to her. 

“Stay low and keep your mouth shut, understood?” He punched her across the face and she felt the now familiar tang of blood in her mouth. “Understood?!” 

She nodded quickly and sunk against the table as the man left the tent. She could hear the clash of metal outside and the smell of blood was beginning to fill the air. She tried not to get her hopes up. It was probably just a group of thieves raiding the camp and they would be disposed of within the hour. 

There was a commotion outside the mouth of her tent and she drew back, pressing against the table. Splinters from the rough wood dug into her skin but she was more frightened of what would happen if she was seen than she was of a few splinters. The last time a thief had seen her during a raid - she had made the mistake of not staying low and he had come into the tent to investigate - she had been beaten so badly that it was hard to breathe for over a week. 

She knew better now. 

No one was coming to find her. 

A man stepped into the tent, his sword dripping with blood. She tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping that he wouldn’t see her. He wasn’t one of the bandits, she could tell that much. He seemed to be dressed in some sort of uniform, though she couldn’t make it out very well in the low light of the tent. 

He made his way into the tent slowly and she curled closer to the table. Her chains rattled as she did so and she closed her eyes tightly as the man turned to look at her. She heard him approach her quickly and felt the heat from the candle on the table as he brought it near her face. 

She opened her eyes when he spoke and nodded slowly. He let out a shaky sigh and looked like he was about to fall over. He placed the candle back on the table, telling her that he’d be back shortly, before running out of the tent. 

The next time she saw him was after the sounds of the fight outside had mostly died down. He entered with a serious looking woman who looked at her like she was some sort of creature to be poked and prodded. She didn’t like this new woman one bit. 

“I’m Officer Lamar and this is Commander Baker,” the man said to her. 

Commander Baker knelt down and roughly grabbed her face. The girl flinched as her fingers pressed against a bruise. “Hm. She sure doesn’t look like much, does she?” 

“She answers to the name though.” 

“Could be a brat by the same name. Could be an attempt at a spy.” 

She bit her tongue to keep from snapping at the commander that she wasn’t a spy. She would never work for those who were keeping her captive. Never in a thousand, thousand years. But she wasn’t sure what would happen if she spoke up, so she kept quiet. 

Officer Lamar still looked uncertain. “Why would they all die just to put a spy in the castle? Why not simply leave her on one of the merchant roads?” 

“Hm. Good point.” Commander Baker stood up. “Keep the chains on her but bring her with us. I’ll send word back to the palace and they’ll send someone out here to identify her.” 

They left the tent and Officer Lamar returned a minute later, key in hand. “I’m sorry about this. But we must take precautions.” 

She glanced at the sword on his belt. He had cleaned it since the fight ended but the memory of the blood on the blade was burned into her mind. He could hit her with the end of it. Or cut her with it. He could do whatever he wanted to her and she would be powerless to stop it. 

But that crest on his sleeve. Birds flying over waves. Her father’s crest. That gave her power. 

“Three birds,” she mumbled. He paused with the key just inches from the keyhole. She nodded at his arm. “An eagle for nobility. A dove for peace, the endless goal. A hawk because we will not rest until we have achieved that goal.” 

“How do you-“ 

She kept going. “A purple rim for royalty. Blue waves for loyalty and to symbolize our connection to the ocean. A silver sky for sincerity.” 

Officer Lamar stared at her. “Only the palace guards and the noble families are taught crest meanings. If you are a spy, how do you know them?” 

She stared up at him with copper eyes, trying as hard as she could to be brave and not shy away. “You know who I am. Now take me to my father.” 

* * *

Walking up the steps to the palace felt surreal to the princess. They had been greeted at the gates by a group of guards who had drilled her rigorously on everything that was known only to the royal family and a select group of guards. Her head was still spinning from the inquisition. 

They had then stripped her (in private by a group of female guards, of course) and checked her body for the few minor scars that she had gotten in the nine years she had been at the palace. This had been hard to do due to all the new scars and bruises from her five years in captivity, but the guards had eventually deemed everything satisfactory and she was released to go and pass her final test: meeting the king. 

She hadn’t seen her father in five years. Every day that she was in captivity she tried to remember what his face looked like but it was getting harder and harder to visualize him. All that she could manage was a hazy image of a man with dark curls and kind eyes. She could remember what his hugs felt like though. She hoped he would hug her again but she was also terrified of anybody touching her bruised ribs. 

Her brother was a little harder to visualize because she knew he would have changed so much in the past five years. Adults didn’t change much over time, but children grew quickly from one month to the next. The image she had in her head was of a boy not much taller than her with a laugh that could make flowers grow. She hoped that last part was still true. She would have even settled for just knowing that her brother still laughed. 

Her mother was the hardest. Whenever she tried to picture her, all that she got was her face as she was ripped away from her in the carriage, her eyes wide in fear as she screamed for her daughter. 

She hadn’t seen any of her family since that day. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she entered the Great Hall. She didn’t even know if hoping for her mother to be there was too much to ask for. 

The large oak doors swung open into a large room. Tapestries hung from the walls, telling stories of past battles, while light shone in through the large windows, bathing the whole room in the soft glow of late afternoon. Guards lined the walls, many more than she was expecting to see guarding two people. She suspected they were there to intervene if she turned out to really be the spy she was suspected of being. 

At the other side of the room stood the king. All of the blurriness surrounding her mental picture of him vanished as she lay eyes on him and she suddenly got the feeling that she would have recognized this man as her father even if he wasn’t wearing the crown. He had the same kind eyes that she remembered, though they looked so much older now. Even his dark curls were the same where they stuck out underneath the gold metal of the crown. 

Next to him stood the prince, who was no longer only slightly taller than her. Now he was much much taller than her, though she hoped that at least part of that was an illusion caused by the long green cloak that he wore. He had the same black curls as their father, but his were much more visible as he only wore a golden circlet rather than a full crown. The most startling change was that he now wore a sword on his belt: when they were children it had always been kept in the armoury. She wondered if this too was because of the spy suspicion and if her brother was expected to lay down his life for their father. It seemed rather counter-intuitive to her, as Triton would then be left without an heir, but the ways of war had never made that much sense to her. 

Behind the prince stood a boy who was likely his personal guard. He looked like he was a couple of years older than the prince, maybe in his late teens. He had brown skin and dark brown hair, as well as a deep-set scowl. He watched her carefully as she approached the throne, looking as though he would not hesitate to rip her spine out if she tried anything suspicious. It was more than a little terrifying. 

The king rose as she approached, raising a hand at his son to tell him to stay back. He approached her slowly and she had to resist the urge to go running towards him. All she wanted was to be able to hug him again, to be wrapped up in those warm arms and be kept safe away from the world. 

“Henrietta?” he asked, barely more than a whisper. 

She nodded quickly. 

And then suddenly he was hugging her. But it wasn’t what she remembered. Instead it was painful. His arms pressed against the bruises on her ribs and she felt a flash of fear in her gut because the last time a man two times her size touched her it was to beat her before chaining her to a table. And that was just two days ago. And now… now… 

She let out a pained noise as he squeezed her tightly and he let go immediately, fear flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“She was badly injured by the bandits, Your Majesty,” Commander Baker said from the entryway. “Her ribs in particular have some nasty bruising. It’ll take her a while to heal.” 

The king scowled as he gently took Henrietta’s cheek in his hand, examining the bruises on her face. “Did you get all of them?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Commander Baker replied. “Every last one.” 

“Good.” He let go of his daughter’s cheek and turned towards the guards. “Kate.” 

One of the guards walked towards them. She was taller than Henrietta and looked like she was around the same age as the prince. She had pale skin and long black hair that was tied back in a tight ponytail. She knelt down on one knee as soon as she reached them, her head bent down in respect. 

Henrietta felt her insides twist in discomfort. No one had bowed to her in a long time. 

“Kate is one of the best guards we have here at the palace, despite her young age,” King David said. “I’m assigning her to you as your personal guard. She will be responsible for keeping you safe.” 

Kate glanced up at her. “It would be an honour, Your Highness.” 

Henrietta stared down at the girl and tried to find everything that was different between her and the guards that had stayed outside her tent for the past five years. The similarities seemed to jump out at her: they both carried weapons; they would both be with her 24/7; they were both guards; they were both physically intimidating. The differences were harder to spot: Kate was assigned to her by her father, rather than a group of bandits who had kidnapped her; Kate would be protecting her, rather than stopping her from leaving; Kate was not allowed to hit her and was certainly not allowed to chain her to a table. 

The biggest difference though, and the one that was the most comforting to Henrietta, was the fact that Kate looked at her like she would die before she let anything like that happen to her again. 

King David gently rested a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “I’m sure you must be exhausted. I’ll send for Candace and she’ll clean you up. Kate will lead you to your room.” 

Kate rose to her feet as the king walked over to the prince, who was watching his sister with deep concern. “If you’ll follow me, Your Highness.” 

Henrietta followed Kate through the halls of the palace, her knees shaking. The palace was so familiar and yet so different. It was as though every step was just slightly lower than she remembered: the world was just slightly off balance. It was made worse by the fact that every time she shut her eyes, even if it was just to blink, all she could see was the bandits’ camp. The palace and the camp were blurring together in the worst way possible and all she wanted to do was collapse on the stairs and cry for the next seven years. 

Kate stayed outside Henrietta’s room while Candace bathed her and got her ready for bed. Candace was the nurse who had looked after the royal siblings when they were small and the king had no doubt chosen her because she would be familiar and comforting to Henrietta. But that childhood familiarity only worsened the lump in her throat. It all seemed so much further away than just five years ago, and she knew that she could never get that feeling back. 

After she was bathed and dressed in a nightgown (one from the servants quarters, as none of the clothes in her dresser fit her anymore), Candace sat Henrietta down at her vanity to braid her hair. Candace tutted as she tried to untangle all of the knots that were in it, and Henrietta wondered whether it would be worth it to ask her to just chop it all off. But she knew that it would never happen: princesses had long, beautiful hair. Even if said hair was more mess than beauty. 

Henrietta kept her eyes down the entire time to avoid looking in the mirror. She knew that she would hate what she saw. She knew that it would be an ugly mess, full of bruises and hollow cheeks. Part of her wished that it looked as bad as she felt on the inside, so that the rest of the world could see just how terrible the last five years had been for her. But another part of her wished desperately that she looked normal, beautiful even, just so that people would forget about what had happened and she might stand a chance of forgetting too. She also knew that there was no way to show how much pain had been inflicted on her nor how terribly it felt. 

Candace left the room and Henrietta slowly raised her eyes to look at herself. 

The sight almost made her sick. 

Her skin was covered in purple bruises, including the clear imprint of fingers on her neck from where one of the bandits had tried strangling her last week. Her lip was scabbing where she had been punched the night that she was freed. Her cheeks were shallow from malnutrition and her collarbone stood out where it was visible under the nightgown. Her hair was still a disaster, despite Candace’s best efforts. Five years of no hairbrushes and getting it cut a couple times a year with a knife would do that. 

Henrietta looked away from the mirror quickly, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She was not going to cry. She was stronger than that. She could handle seeing what the bandits had done to her. She could manage it. 

She turned her attention instead to the items spread out on top of her vanity. There wasn’t much, as children didn’t have much need for makeup, but there was a small music box sitting in the corner. She flicked the switch on it and sad, tinkling music drifted out. 

Staring down at the small pink box, a gift that her mother had gotten her for her sixth birthday, Henrietta finally let out the tears that she had been keeping in for the last two days. 

They were tears of relief at finally being found, at seeing her father and brother again after so long; of sorrow, because her mother was not there with them and she didn’t know what that meant and yet was absolutely terrified that she did; of fear, built up over the last five years until it felt like a dam waiting to break. 

Her sobs filled the room, coming out in deep, gulping gasps that shook her body as she struggled to stay somewhat calm. But she couldn’t. She was too overwhelmed. The world had been so terrible and dark for so long and it felt as if somebody had suddenly grabbed her hand and yanked her into the light and now she was blinded, with no idea of what would happen next. 

Was she meant to go back to what her life had been before? Skip to where it was supposed to be now and ignore everything that had happened? Or did she acknowledge it and try to forge a new path? What was going to happen to her now? 

There was a knock at her door and Henrietta quickly wiped her eyes, trying to slow her breathing. She needed to appear normal. She could do normal. She had been faking normalcy and calm for the last five years: what was another ten minutes? 

“Enter,” she said shakily. 

The door creaked open and the prince walked into the room. He had changed out of the clothes he had been wearing in the Great Hall earlier, and was now dressed in white tunic and gray pants. His sword was notably gone, as was his circlet. He looked a lot more like the brother she remembered now, standing nervously in her doorway. She noted with some disappointment that he still looked as tall as he had when she first saw him. 

“I just wanted to check on you” he said, shifting slightly on his feet. “Make sure you’re really here and I’m not just dreaming.” 

“I’m real,” Henrietta said quietly. “I may not be much, but I’m real.” 

The prince stepped further into the room, approaching her slowly, as though she were a wild animal that might startle and run away. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.” 

She felt her bottom lip begin to tremble as she tried to reply with the steadiest voice she could manage. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“Oh, Henrietta…” her brother said sadly, his eyes looking like those of a kicked puppy. 

She sniffled. “I’m fine. Really.” 

“Would you like a hug?” he asked. 

She responded by throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. He returned the hug gently, being careful not to put too much pressure on her bruised ribs. “It’s good to see you again, Bertrand. It’s so good.” 

“It’s good to see you too, little sister.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Bertie woke up with a piercing headache and decided that pretending to still be asleep was the best course of action for the moment. He ducked his head under a pillow and closed his eyes tightly, willing his body to go back to sleep. 

The door to his chambers slammed open a second later and Joseph stormed in. Bertie sometimes wondered if his tutor knew how to walk or if he could only storm. He had to respect the man for moving so angrily even with his bad legs. 

“Get up!” Joseph said sternly, hitting the end of Bertie’s bed with his cane. “Your father is out all day so you will be responsible for listening to the grievances.” 

“Is that today?” Bertie groaned. Of course his head would break on the day he had to be attentive. 

“Yes. And before you ask, no, you may not ask your sister to do it instead.” Joseph hit his bed with his cane again. “Get dressed. I’ll be expecting you downstairs in half an hour. You had better not be tardy.” 

The door to his chambers slammed shut again. Bertie rolled out of bed onto the floor. The cool marble felt nice against his skin and he slowly closed his eyes as sleep began to descend on him again… 

Only to be rudely shocked away as he was abruptly lifted into the air. Bertie squirmed desperately in his captor’s arms as his eyes flew open and he reached to his belt for his dagger.  He relaxed as he recognized the man holding him, which was lucky considering that he was still in his pyjamas and did not have a knife. 

“What are you doing?” he said, trying not to sound too much like he was snapping. 

“You’re in a bad mood today,” Roger said as he dropped Bertie on his bed. 

He groaned and tried to hide under his pillow again. “Headache. What’s with the lifting?” 

“I’m your guard, aren’t I?” 

Bertie peered out at him suspiciously. “Yes?” 

“Consider it my way of guarding you from Joseph’s wrath. Or did you want to make your headache worse by having him hit you over the head with his cane?” 

Bertie was across the room in a second. “I’m awake!” 

Roger smirked as he headed out the door. “That’s what I thought.” 

Bertie joined Roger in the hallway once he was dressed. “Happy now?” he said, glowering at him. His head felt like it was being cut open. 

“Hm.” Roger started down the hallway. “You’re going to be late.” 

Bertie rolled his eyes and followed. Sometimes there was no pleasing Roger. 

“Where did my father go anyways?” he asked. 

“I believe he said he was going hunting. I think he wanted some time alone after all the stress of the last few weeks.” 

“What stress? His daughter is back, he should be happy.” 

“His daughter may be back, but his wife isn’t,” Roger said. “It’s likely that he sees this as confirmation that she really is dead.” 

“Still.” 

“It’s not uncommon for the king to leave for a day or two. Why are you so upset this time?” 

Bertie sighed. Roger was just as perceptive as always. “It’s the first time he’s left since Henrietta came back. Not only that, but it’s the first time I’m doing grievances on my own. He could have at least waited a few days.” 

“You’re not actually worried about grievances, are you?” 

“Of course I am. It’s the easiest way to have your subjects either love you or hate you.” 

“And you think that they’ll hate you,” Roger said. 

“They will if I say the wrong thing,” Bertie said. 

“And since when were you not a kind, compassionate prince? They’ll love you. Even more than your father.” 

Bertie smiled slightly and a small bubble of happiness formed in his chest. “You really think so?” 

“How could I not?” Roger said. 

“You’re tardy!” Joseph’s voice abruptly ended the moment and he promptly ruined Bertie’s day by rapping him sharply on the head with his cane. Bertie muttered a curse word that he had picked up from the guards and instantly regretted it as the cane hit the back of his thighs. “And watch your language! You’re the prince, not a buffoon!” 

“I’m sorry Joseph, I wasn’t informed that we were starting with your grievances today,” Bertie said, rubbing his temples. The pain in his head was blinding. 

Joseph tsked. “Watch your mouth boy. You’re expected to be on your best behaviour today and listen to the people, not mouth off at them. Your father has high hopes for you.” 

That was exactly what Bertie needed to be reminded of: how hopeful his father was that he would turn out to be a worthy heir. If you asked Bertie, his hopes were better placed in anyone else but his son. Like perhaps a mouse. Or a small rock. 

Joseph ushered him into the throne room. “Now remember to sit up straight. You slouch too often. And look confident, but not proud. Your authority must not be questioned but you shouldn’t look like a tyrant. Carefully consider your solutions: your father is deferring to you completely today. Your decision will be enacted.” 

Bertie collapsed into the throne. “So if I accidentally start a war today?” 

“Then those men’s deaths will be on you.” Joseph hit his shins with his cane. “Don’t start a war.” 

Bertie shifted so that he was sitting upright. “I’ll do my best not to.” 

Joseph tsked him again before hobbling off to let the first subject in. Bertie shot Roger a desperate look. “Any chance you could get me out of this by pretending someone out there threatened my life?” he asked. 

“You’ll do fine,” he said, taking his spot next to Bertie. 

The day seemed to drag on forever. The sheer number of people who were there because they had next to nothing to eat or were being threatened by bandits in the woods was heartbreaking. Thankfully most of the grievances had easy solutions - send out a patrol to hunt down the bandits, offer the starving people some rations from their stores. Joseph approached him after one farmer left and told him in a hushed whisper that he was giving out too much food. 

“But if I don’t feed them, they’ll starve,” he had argued back. 

“And if you give the first twenty families all the rations, what is left for the remaining eighty?” Joseph replied and the conversation had stopped there. Bertie cut down how much food he gave out but still made sure to give each person something. 

After a complaint about wolves carrying off all the livestock, Bertie turned to Roger. “You grew up on a farm, didn’t you? Is the situation really that bad?” 

Roger looked uncomfortable. “Sometimes, yes. Sometimes it’s better. And sometimes it’s worse.” 

“I must seem so spoiled to you.” 

“Sometimes. You’ve had your share of troubles though. They were just different than mine.” 

“Yes, because yours were killer wolves who wanted to bite your head off. That’s an easy problem to fix.” 

He almost swore that Roger was smiling. “How do you think I learned to fight and kill?” 

* * *

Bertie was relieved when the door closed behind the last peasant and the day was finally over. Joseph gave him a grudging nod of approval and Bertie practically fled the throne room with Roger behind him. 

“That was terrifying, I am never doing that again!” he said, collapsing against the wall outside. 

“So what’s your plan for when you become king? Just let your people suffer?” Roger said. Bertie gave him a dirty look. “You know I’m right. It’s either suffer through this every couple of weeks or find out that half your kingdom has died of starvation.” 

Bertie sighed. “I know. I know you’re right. And I know that it’s a silly thing to get upset over, I just… I couldn’t stand feeling so helpless. I’m the prince and I can’t stop my people from starving. I can’t keep wolves away from their families. I can’t stop bandits from kidnapping them. I can’t-“ 

Roger grabbed hold of his shoulders. “Bertie. Calm down.” 

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to apologize. You don’t need to apologize for any of it. They don’t expect you to stop it all. They just want you to help. And that’s what you’re doing. You were… You were amazing today. You did more today than your father did in any of his sessions.” 

“But I barely even helped any of them. And you heard Joseph: I didn’t think things through, I put some of them in danger.” 

“Yes, because you’re inexperienced. But you wanted to help. And you listened to all of them and did something for every person. Your father would have turned away at least half of them. You’re going to be a great king.” 

Bertie opened his eyes. “You believe in me?” 

Roger looked surprised, as though the idea of Bertie not knowing that had never occurred to him. “Of course.” 

“Then I can do it.” Bertie crossed his arms. “Can we go out to the gardens? I think I need some air.” 

Roger nodded. 

The gardens had been Bertie’s favourite part of the palace grounds since he was a little boy. He used to play in them with Henrietta before their parents decided that he was too old for games and needed to begin training to be a good king. Now they were a place where he could sit and relax. The flowers didn’t have any expectations of him. They didn’t care what he thought about the border villages or what his planned solution for assisting the northern towns during the winter was. They were just quiet and pretty and smelled nice. He could just sit there and be at peace. 

Bertie sat down on one of the benches and clutched the edge of it tightly. The cool stone was grounding and helped him feel less like the world was spinning. He picked a flower - one of the last survivors of autumn - to focus on and took a few deep breaths. He was okay. He could do this. It was scary now but that was because it was new. He had time to get used to it before all of the responsibility would fall on him. 

He stayed there for a few minutes, enjoying the peace. Once he felt marginally calmer, he got up and headed back over to Roger. He’d been waiting for Bertie a dozen feet away; far enough to give him some space but still close enough to protect him. 

“How’s your head?” Roger asked. 

Bertie groaned. He’d mostly forgotten about it in all his worry over his subjects. “Still pretty bad.” 

“Well lucky for you, you don’t have anything else to do tonight,” he said. “You can go and sleep early.” 

“Really? You won’t come to lift me out of bed with your strong arms?” 

“Not unless we get attacked.” 

* * *

Bertie’s woken up by Roger shaking his shoulder. “Bertie? Bertie, wake up.” 

He grumbled and curled away from him. “You promised you wouldn’t wake me up unless we were attacked…” 

“Bertie, you complete idiot. Get up.” 

Bertie’s eyes flew open. “We’re being attacked?!” 

Roger looked at him sadly. “No, Bertie. The attack already happened.” 

* * *

His father looked oddly small now that he was dead. In all of Bertie’s memories, he was a big, muscular man who could lift him over his head and throw him high into the air but always catch him on the way back down. He remembered the king carrying Henrietta around on his back all day once, even to all of his meetings. He never seemed to tire of holding her. He was the man who could intimidate overly ambitious lords just by getting in their personal space and reminding them that he was mighty and would not be taken down easily. Bertie had gotten his height and broad shoulders from him. 

But now he lay on his bed, his eyes closed and his chest bloody, and all Bertie could think was that this man was so very far from mighty. 

He didn’t want to stay in his father’s chambers: they smelled like death and grief. But tradition called for the next king to spend the night keeping vigil with the body. 

Bertie put his head between his legs. The next king. That was him now. He had always known it was coming, but this… This was too early. He wasn’t supposed to die yet. He wasn’t supposed to die for years and years. There was too much he had left to teach him. Bertie wasn’t ready to take over for him yet. 

He wasn’t ready to lose his _father_ yet. 

He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know what to do without him there. He didn’t know how to deal with the fact that he’d never see him again. He’d never walk into his office and be greeted by his smile, tired but always there because he knew that it would make Bertie feel better if his father seemed alright. Bertie knew he wasn’t alright, but the pretence still helped. 

The thought of never hearing his father’s voice again, never hearing his laugh again, never getting to hug him ever again, all made Bertie’s heart ache, made him feel like his insides were dying, pulling themselves apart before slamming back together again. It was as though David had thrown Bertie up in the air but vanished before he could catch him again.

The lump in his throat grew and Bertie curled tighter around his legs as the tears began to flow. He couldn’t do this. _He couldn’t do this._

It felt like centuries before a hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see Joseph standing over him. 

“Is it morning?” Bertie asked, his voice hoarse. 

“Yes, my boy,” Joseph said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s morning.” 

“What… What happens now?” 

“Your uncle is on his way south. He’ll stay here for the next few years and help you rule until you’re old enough to do so on your own.” 

Of course. He couldn’t take the throne until his twenty-first birthday. And seeing as his seventeenth wasn’t for a few more days, they still had a fair bit of time before that day would come. “Do they know who did it?” 

“Not yet. Patrols have been sent to search the woods for signs of bandits, but the most likely explanation is an assassin.” 

Bertie looked at the wound on his father’s chest and nodded slowly. It made sense. Bandits were rough and inaccurate with their attacks. Assassins were quick and deadly. Although there were a few other wounds on his father’s body, they looked more like ones acquired during self-defence rather than by a missed blow. 

“How do we find them if it’s an assassin?” 

“We’ll see if we can track them first. And if not, we’ll have to begin thinking of who may have hired them and investigate their recent dealings. But that’s a job for tomorrow,” Joseph said. “Go and get some sleep. You’ll be needed later to prepare for the funeral.” 

Bertie nodded and left the king’s chambers. 

Roger was waiting for him in the hallway outside, looking as though he too had been up all night. 

“Were you here all night?” Bertie asked him. 

“Henrietta’s missing,” Roger said. 

“What?” The panic that had kept him company all night gained some friends. “Since when? Why didn’t anybody tell me?” 

“Only for a short while. We aren’t meant to disturb you while you’re on vigil.” 

“What happened to disturbing me if we’re under attack?” Bertie snapped at him before sprinting off down the hallway in the direction of his sister’s chambers. 

Roger chased after him. “Kate already checked her chambers, there’s no sign of her anywhere.” 

“She might have missed something, apparently she’s good at overlooking things.” The tiny part of Bertie’s brain that wasn’t overtaken by blind panic and worry over his sister felt guilty for lashing out. This wasn’t their fault. The rest of his brain screamed back that of course it was, those two idiots _lost an entire person._

The door to Henrietta’s balcony was open and Bertie ran outside. A vine-covered trellis came up past the railing on the right side. Henrietta used to climb down it when she was a child and wanted to sneak out to see the fireflies in the gardens or watch one of their parents’ balls. Bertie climbed over the edge and rolled his eyes at Roger’s startled yell. 

“I’m _fine,_ ” he said, exasperated. “I just want to see if it can hold my weight.” 

“If you fall, I will kill you,” Roger said. 

“I’ve done this before, I’ll be fine.” 

“You’ve done this before?” 

“Sure, there’s one near my balcony too,” Bertie said, climbing down. 

“Are you a complete idiot? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?” Roger paused and took a deep breath. “Please tell me that you haven’t done that in years.” 

Bertie smirked up at him. “Don’t feel bad; I’m very quiet.” 

He was suddenly very glad to be on the trellis where Roger couldn’t strangle him. 

“Bertie?!” The shout came from the ground. He glanced down to see Kate staring up at him. He regretted the action a second later when the world spun and he clung tighter to the trellis. 

“Hello Kate,” he said weakly. “It’s really good to see you… All the way down there…” 

“I told you it was dangerous,” Roger snapped. “Come back up.” 

“I think you’d better listen to him, Bertie,” Kate called up. “It’s a long way down from there.” 

“I think I’m stuck,” Bertie squeaked.

“What?!” Roger yelled. “You said you knew how to do this!” 

“What did he say?” Kate shouted. 

“I-I do,” Bertie said, clutching the trellis. “I just… It’s a long way down, I’m scared.” 

“I hate you,” Roger said before disappearing off the balcony. 

“Roger? Roger, where are you going? Roger, help!” 

“Bertie hang on! I’m going to come up and get you!” Kate called. 

“I don’t really have any other option except for death,” Bertie muttered. 

Roger reappeared on the balcony. He tossed the end of one of Henrietta’s sheets down to him. “Take it,” he said. 

“I will fall and die,” Bertie said, clutching the trellis even tighter. 

“You’ll be fine,” Roger promised. “Just take it one hand at a time.” 

“Are you serious? Roger, there’s no way that thing can hold my weight!” 

“Bertie you are literally standing on thin pieces of wood right now. You’ll be fine.” 

Bertie whined. 

“Bertie, please.” Bertie glanced up at Roger. He was looking down at him, his eyes pleading. “Trust me.” 

He sighed. “If I die, you’d better mourn me.” 

The corner of Roger’s mouth twitched. “For the rest of my life.” 

Bertie grabbed the sheet slowly, being careful not to let his feet slip as his weight shifted. Roger lifted him up slowly. Once he was back on solid ground, Bertie collapsed against Roger’s shoulder. 

“So the trellis could definitely hold her weight,” he said. 

“Surely there was a better way of finding that out.” 

“Probably.” 

Roger huffed and shrugged him off. “You are impossible.” 

Bertie whined. Roger’s shoulder was comfortable and he was tired, sad, and anxious. He wanted to rest. Just for a minute. And then they could get back to business. 

Roger hauled him to his feet. “Come on. If Henrietta went down that way, where would she have gone?” 

Bertie sighed and rubbed his face, trying to get his brain to wake up. “I don’t know. When we were children she would go to the garden or the ballroom, but I don’t know. It’s been so long. She’s so…” 

_Different._

The girl who had come back from the bandits felt like to complete stranger to Bertie. She was quiet and withdrawn much of the time, whereas the Henrietta of his childhood was energetic and loud. He felt so unsure talking to her now. How did you talk to someone who had spent the last five years of their life suffering terrible abuse? Who barely even looked like your sister anymore? 

“It’s worth a try,” Roger said. 

Bertie nodded and the two of them went out to the gardens. Frost covered the ground and Bertie drew his cloak tightly around him, shivering slightly. If she had come outside, hopefully Henrietta hadn’t been out long. 

Bertie finally spotted her sitting on a bench, her knees drawn up towards her chest. She was shaking, though Bertie couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or crying. He told Roger to stay back before approaching Henrietta slowly so as not to scare her. She startled easily now. 

“Henrietta?” 

She looked up at him, her cheeks streaked with tears. “Is it true?” 

Bertie knelt down in front of her. “Yes. They found him late last night. How… How long have you been out here? You’re turning blue.” 

“He can’t be gone though. I just got back. He’s… He’s not _allowed_ to be gone already. It isn’t fair.” 

“I know. You should have gotten more time with him.” 

“I deserved that much,” Henrietta muttered. 

Bertie didn’t respond, only took off his cloak and wrapped it around her. Henrietta stared at him for a moment, as though confused by the action, before wrapping it tighter around herself and tucking her nose under the fabric. 

“Tell me a story about him?” she asked, her voice muffled by the cloak. 

“What kind of story do you want to hear?” 

“I missed five years with him. Why don’t you start there?” 

“Alright…” Bertie raked his brain for a good story about his father. So many of them now felt obscured by grief and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to make it halfway through before bursting into tears. And that was not what Henrietta needed right now. She needed her big brother to be the strong one. The brave one. She could find out the truth later. “How about fixing the problems with-” 

Henrietta shook her head. “I want a story about you and him. Him being a father. When the bandits took me, I lost that. I want something that makes him mine again. I want to become me again.” 

Bertie frowned. “Why don’t you think you’re you anymore?” 

“Because they took away everything that made me me. Mother’s still missing. Father just died. You’re so different. And I know that I am too. I don’t feel like me anymore. They took away all of that. Everything feels wrong. Even my _name’s_ wrong. Every time you call me Henrietta, all I can hear is them mocking me.” 

“Maybe you need to become someone new then. Maybe we can leave Henrietta here, in the past with our parents. We find a new name to call you. Something that fits the new you. Something to help heal you.” 

She frowned, thinking. “Maybe. But what would we call me? I don’t want to just get rid of my old name. That would be too much like letting them win.” 

“We could shorten it.” 

“To?” 

Bertie considered it for a moment. “How about Etta?” 

She bit her lip, smiling slightly. “Yes. Yes, I think I like that. Etta.” 

“We’re the royals who go by nicknames. The people’ll love us,” Bertie said. 

Etta laughed and Bertie smiled. “Think you could come back inside with me?” he asked. 

She nodded and moved to get up before Bertie noticed that she was barefoot. 

“Seriously Etta? You didn’t even put shoes on before coming out here? Were you trying to freeze to death?” 

“I wasn’t exactly thinking about that,” Etta said. 

Bertie sighed and picked her up. “Guess I’m carrying you back to the castle then.” 

She snuggled into his neck. “Alright.” 

Kate found them as they were going back into the castle and her face flooded with relief when she saw Etta. “Where did you find her?” 

“Out in the gardens, freezing to death,” Bertie said. 

Kate sighed and glared at Etta. “Don’t do that again. You nearly killed me.” 

Etta gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” 

“Do you want me to carry her?” Kate asked Bertie. “You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

He yawned. “Just tired. I’ve got this. You two should go get some rest. We’ll be alright.” 

They nodded and headed towards the guards’ quarters, talking quietly with each other. Bertie headed upstairs with Etta. 

“I can walk, you know,” she mumbled. 

“Do you want to?” He’d set her down if that was what she wanted, but Bertie felt a little bit better holding onto Etta for the moment. He needed to be certain that she was real. 

“Not really,” she said. “My feet hurt.” 

“I wonder why that is.” 

Etta grumbled and wrapped his cloak tighter around herself. “I forget my shoes one time…” 

Bertie smiled and set her down outside her chambers. “Go to bed,” he said. “You need to be well rested for the next few days.” 

“Alright,” Etta said, yawning. 

She went into her chambers and Bertie headed towards his own. He froze a minute later when she stuck her head out and asked, “Bertrand, why is my bed a mess and one of my sheets on the balcony?” 

“Uh… Must have been the ghost!” he said before darting into his chambers. He knew there was something they had forgotten to do. 

* * *

The day Preben and Alyssa Renard arrived at the palace was gray and bleek, the ground covered with the winter’s first snowfall. Their carriage had been delayed by the weather, resulting in Bertie anxiously pacing the throne room and throwing out increasingly terrible scenarios of what living with their aunt and uncle would be like. 

“What if they’re really horrible and try to control everything we do?” he said. 

“Then we ignore them and you remind them that you’re heir to the throne and can do whatever you want,” Etta said. 

“I can’t do whatever I want,” Bertie said. 

“Yes you can,” she said. “You have almost completely unchecked power. That’s what being king means.” 

“No, it means looking after your people. And I’m not king yet, I’m only the crown prince.” 

“You’re almost the king though. Which means that there are very few people who can tell you what to do. And I don’t think that a lord is one of them, even if he is your uncle.” 

Bertie stopped pacing to give her an irritated look. “Then who are those people?” 

“Well me, first of all.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You?” 

Etta grinned. “Of course. I’m your sister and you can’t say no to me.” 

“Alright fine,” Bertie said. “Who are the others?” 

“Joseph and Roger, obviously.” 

Bertie huffed but he had to give her that one. The threat of Joseph’s cane was enough to make him obedient, and Roger was likely the only person who could get away with threatening bodily harm to the prince every day. “Alright but what if-“ 

He was interrupted by Joseph walking into the throne room. “Lord Preben and the Lady Alyssa have arrived.” 

Bertie took a deep breath and went to take his place next to Etta. “Alright, send them in.” 

The doors opened and a man and woman walked in. Lord Preben was easily recognizable as David’s brother, though his eyes were harsher than the late king’s, likely due to a lifetime commanding armies. Lady Alyssa looked calmer than her husband but she still made Bertie’s stomach churn with anxiety. 

_Stop being so nervous,_ he told himself. _Everything will be fine._

“Bertrand. Henrietta. It’s wonderful to see you again, although I’m sorry it had to be under such tragic circumstances,” Preben said. 

“Thank you, uncle,” Bertie said. “It’s good to see you too.” 

He glanced at Joseph for a signal as to what to do next. His father was always the one who had looked after visitors when they arrived: all he had to do was stand there and look pleasant. Joseph looked expectantly at the staircase leading up to the guest chambers. 

“Shall I show you to your chambers?” Bertie said. “You’ve had a long journey and I’m sure you would like to rest.” 

“Thank you.” 

Bertie lead the two of them upstairs and Etta slipped over to Kate, obviously relieved that she didn’t have to worry about welcoming their family. 

“Have you received any news about the cause of the king’s death?” Preben asked. 

“Not yet. We have patrols searching the woods for any sign of bandits or assassins.” 

“Well, that’s to be expected. You have only been looking for a few days and you’re quite new to this, aren’t you? You just turned seventeen, isn’t that correct?” Alyssa said, holding her hands behind her back as they walked. It made her look uniquely graceful. 

Bertie nodded. “Yesterday.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it then. You’ll get better at this with time.” 

“And I’ll be here to help you too,” Preben said, resting a hand on Bertie’s shoulder. “You’ve still got plenty of time to learn how to lead.” 

Bertie smiled. “Thank you uncle. I’ll… leave you two to get settled in.” 

He sank back against the door of their chambers after he closed it and let out a sigh of relief. 

_You see?_ he thought. _You overthink things too much. There’s nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a quick heads-up that I go back to uni today and so I'm not sure how frequent updates will be for the next few months. I've worked out an update schedule for my fics and I think I should be able to stick to it, but we'll see. Since chapters for this fic tend to be 4K+ it's the most likely one to fall behind and have less frequent updates. So please be patient with me as I work hard to try to keep things on track (comments and love help!). 
> 
> I'm @pillowcreeks on tumblr and I'm basically the Bridge fandom possum, so you know. Great content there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooo sorry for the delay on this chapter, I came down with a pretty sucky head cold and didn't feel up to writing for a while. The next chapter will (hopefully!) be up soon!

It was hard to readjust to life in the palace. Etta had been trying for weeks now, but she still hadn’t quite gotten used to being able to sleep in a proper bed, eat actual food, and of course the biggest change of all: moving around freely without chains digging into her skin. The wounds on her body were healing well and she no longer looked quite as starved, but she still had dark circles under her eyes, a sign of how little sleep she’d been getting. It seemed like every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was that tent and all she could feel was metal digging into her wrists and wood cracking her ribs. 

She’d gone down to the kitchens the other day to see if they had anything that could help with the nightmares. They had all looked quite surprised to see her, although she wasn’t sure if it was because the royals didn’t typically enter the kitchens or because of her appearance. The scars were still noticeable and Etta found herself wishing desperately for something that could cover them up. 

The cook was able to bring her some tea in the evenings to help relax her and put her to sleep, but all it had accomplished was make it harder to wake up from her nightmares. The night time guard had burst into her chambers last night because she had been screaming. It had been horribly embarrassing and Etta spent the day in the library, hiding away from everybody except for Kate, who she couldn’t quite shake. 

Ever since Etta had climbed out the window last week, Kate had been more vigilant about her duties. Etta wanted to be annoyed about it - having someone follow you everywhere wasn’t exactly her idea of fun after the last five years - but she appreciated having someone familiar around now that there were so many new people in the palace. 

Her aunt and uncle were alright, she supposed. Etta had been trying to avoid them as much as possible. She knew that all they would want to talk about was the bandits and the kidnapping and how she was doing after her father’s assassination and she could not handle that. Not right now. Not when she felt like she might fall apart if the wind blew just a little too strongly. 

The worst part of their arrival was the guards that had come with them. Having people with weapons around that hadn’t been vouched for by her father was nerve wracking, and Etta preferred to stay as far away from these potential threats as possible. 

So here she was, hiding away in the dustiest corner of the library, her nose buried in a book about snakes and their venoms. Kate was standing a few aisle away, a dagger strapped to her arm and a sword in her belt. Etta wondered why she needed so many weapons for an average day, but figured that they would come in handy if they were attacked. She supposed it was useful to have an extra weapon if you lost your main one. 

Etta realized that she had been staring at the same paragraph about the Pentalian Green snake for the last five minutes and hadn’t processed a single word of it. She slammed the book shut with slightly more force than necessary and went to put it back in its place. 

Kate followed after her. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked. 

“I wasn’t looking for anything in particular,” Etta said. “It just got boring.” 

“The later snakes weren’t as exciting as the early ones?” 

“It gets a little repetitive after a while. Lots of poison, lots of harmless unless provoked.” Etta sighed and leaned back against the shelf. “I feel… impatient. Is that a weird feeling to be having?” 

“Why would it be weird?” 

“I don’t know what I’m impatient _for._ Nothing’s coming up. The funeral’s over. Everyone’s just settling into their roles now. Whatever those are.” 

“Maybe that’s it,” Kate said. 

“Hm?” 

“Maybe it’s not impatience,” she said. “Maybe you’re just anxious about the future. It’s the same jittery feeling in your stomach, just a different cause.” 

“Maybe,” Etta said thoughtfully. 

Kate perched herself on the ladder used to climb to the highest shelves. It had a slight slope like a staircase so she was almost sitting comfortably. “Well, what do you think of when you think of the future?” 

“I’m… I’m not sure,” Etta said. “I don’t know what to expect. Everything’s just so different than it was before. _I’m_ so different.” 

“What if it wasn’t different?” 

She gave Kate an annoyed look. “It is. I can’t just make it not different. If I could, I would have already done that.” 

“I know. That wasn’t what I meant. Well, not exactly. I meant, what if you hadn’t been kidnapped: what would you be doing right now?” 

Etta considered that. As the princess she was expected to be the diplomatic head of the family - she would get married to a foreign prince, establishing a strong alliance between their countries, and then have that country fall in love with her by being charismatic and generous, winning over the support of that country’s people as well as their leaders. It was the same role that Bertrand would have to fulfill, although he at least got to stay at home. 

The two of them also had their secondary roles, of course. Although to the public these were their primary roles. Bertrand was in charge of leading the state, while Etta was expected to be the head of the religion. She didn’t despise this idea entirely, though she also wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of being the leader of her people’s faith. 

“I would be learning how to present myself: how to appear diplomatic and strong. I would also be studying the religious texts of Triton and our potential allies,” she said. 

“So why don’t you try doing that?” Kate asked. 

“It just…” Etta sighed. “This is going to sound stupid.” 

“I’m sure it won’t.” 

“That feels too normal now. It would be too much like pretending that nothing happened and everything’s normal. And it’s not. I’m not.” 

Kate frowned and was quiet for a minute, thinking that over in her mind. “Maybe you don’t need to stick to the plan,” she said finally. “Maybe you need a different job.” 

“There isn’t one. Not for princesses, at least. Everything’s been planned out for me since birth but that’s all been disrupted and I don’t know what to-“ Etta’s voice cracked and she ducked her head, biting her lip in an attempt to keep her tears at bay. 

Kate stood up. “Come with me.” 

“No.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “I don’t want… I don’t want to go out… out there…” 

Kate frowned and crouched in front of her. “Etta?” 

Her shoulders shook as she tried to keep her voice steady even as tears began rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. It’s quiet. And safe.” 

“Etta, I promise that nothing bad will happen to you as long as I’m around. But we don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Okay.” Kate gave her a reassuring smile. “We can stay right here.” 

The two of them stayed like that for a while, Kate shifting into a cross-legged sitting position when her legs got tired. She was smart enough not to touch Etta, which was a relief as Etta was fairly certain that she would have attempted to throw Kate down the aisle if she had. Her tears stopped after a few minutes but the knot in her chest remained. 

Etta wiped her eyes angrily. She was sick of crying in front of people, sick of being the weak little princess. “Sorry.” 

Kate only smiled up at her. “It’s fine. It’s been a hard month for you.” 

Etta scoffed. “More like a hard five years.” 

“Of course. I’m sorry.” 

She sighed. “It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere else?” Kate asked. “Maybe a change of scenery would be good for you. You have been spending most of the week either in your chambers or the library.” 

“Where else would I go? Everywhere else feels so crowded and unfriendly. Everyone’s staring at me all the time.”

Kate smiled. “Let’s get your cloak.” 

* * *

Etta followed Kate out of the palace. It was the first time she had left the building since her trip out the window and she was dressed more warmly than she had been that night. Kate had insisted on her putting on a warm cloak, boots, and gloves, which was all so much more clothing than she had worn for the last few winters. It was taking her a while to get used to wearing clothes that weren’t rags again. 

Kate lead her down the pathway to the stables. “They just got a new horse in yesterday. They need somebody to take him out for a walk and get him used to the new area. I thought maybe we could offer to do it.” 

“A horse?” Etta said. 

“Yeah. I find them calming. Didn’t you used to ride when you were younger?” 

“Yes, but it’s been years. I don’t think I remember how.” 

“Don’t worry,” Kate said, still wearing that calm smile. “We’ll just be walking him today. You don’t even have to get on.” 

“Okay…” Etta said. 

“Stay here,” Kate said before going into the stables. 

She came out a minute later with a sleek brown horse. He had a small white mark on his forehead as well as patches of white hair above each of his hooves. He blinked at Etta slowly, as though seeing into her soul. 

“He’s beautiful,” she breathed. 

Kate grinned. “I thought you might like him.” 

“Does he have a name?” Etta said. 

“Not yet. You can name him if you’d like.” 

Etta reached out and let the horse sniff her hand. He blew gently and nuzzled her hand. She grinned and stroked his nose. “Bob.” 

Kate laughed. “Bob? Really?” 

“Yeah. He looks like a Bob.” 

“Alright then. I’ll let the stablehand know.” 

Kate disappeared back inside again and Etta rested her forehead against Bob’s. He nudged at her with his nose and she laughed. He was a lot gentler than she had been expecting. 

“I take it you two have bonded then?” Kate said as she came back outside. 

Etta gave her a sheepish grin. “I love him. They aren’t getting him back.” 

“You’re the princess. You could always just tell them that you want him to be your horse.” 

“I can do that?” Etta said. “I would have thought that they would want him for the army.” 

“Well they haven’t decided what they’re doing with him yet. He could also be used to help with trade.” 

“I think I’ll ask them then.” 

“Good. Do you want to walk him or should I?” 

“You should probably do it. I… don’t exactly remember how.” 

Kate laughed and took the reins from Etta. The three of them started down a pathway leading to the back of the palace grounds where the hunting trails were. There were some fields near the edge of the grounds where they could let Bob run around for a bit. 

“You could always do what your uncle does,” Kate said, breaking the silence. 

Etta looked over at her, confused. “What?” 

“Your uncle. He lead the army, did he not?” 

“Yes. What are you getting at?” 

“Couldn’t that be your future?” Kate said. 

“I’m not sure,” Etta said. “That role is typically for the second son. If my parents had had another child and it had been a boy, he would be able to do it, but I’ve never heard of a princess filling the role.” 

“Well why not?” Kate asked. “There’s plenty of female soldiers, why couldn’t it just be a daughter instead of a son? Just the second-born child.” 

“I suppose. I don’t know how to fight though.” 

“I could teach you.” 

They had reached the field. Etta gave Kate a doubtful look. “Really? You’re going to teach me how to fight so well that in six years time I could lead the army?” 

“We’ve got six years. That’s plenty of time. But we shouldn’t waste it.” Kate patted Bob’s seat. “Get up there.” 

“But I don’t know how to ride!” 

“Don’t worry,” Kate said. “I’ll help you.” 

“You won’t let me fall and crack my head open?” 

Kate laughed. “I promise I won’t.” 

Etta allowed Kate to help her up onto Bob’s back. Her legs had to spread further apart than she was expecting and she was not only relieved that she had worn a looser dress today, but also that only Kate was around to see her with her dress awkwardly bunched up around her hips. 

“I’m gonna walk him for a bit to let you get used to the motion, okay?” Kate said. “Just hold onto the cantle for now.” 

Etta nodded and clutched the cantle so tightly her knuckles turned white. She lurched forward when Bob began walking and her breath hitched as she slid in the saddle. Luckily she managed to stay on Bob’s back. 

Kate lead them around the field once before handing the reins to Etta. “Kick his sides to make him go. Squeeze your legs and pull back on the reins to make him stop. If you want him to turn, tug on the side of the reins of the direction you want him to go,” she said. 

“I’m going to die,” Etta said. 

Kate grinned. “You’ll be fine.” 

* * *

The rest of the winter passed in a blur. The two girls spent time in the field every day that they could, Kate teaching Etta how to ride; first with both hands and then with the reins in one hand so that she could swing a sword with the other. She hadn’t taught Etta _how_ to swing a sword yet, insisting that they should wait for the snow to melt. 

Riding Bob made Etta feel strong and powerful, like she could conquer the world all by herself. She wondered if this was how Kate got to feel every day, or if it would feel even better once she got to hold a weapon. Her nightmares had lessened slightly, though they still came every few nights. She hoped that they would disappear once Kate allowed her to keep a knife under her pillow. 

Today they were going over riding with no hands on the reins, as though she were preparing to fire an arrow. Etta had gotten good at walking and trotting Bob like that, but today would be her first attempt to do it while cantering. 

Kate watched her swing herself up into the saddle. “Are you sure you’re ready to try this?” 

“Yes. I’m positive. I really, really want to do it,” she said. 

“Alright then.” Kate moved off to the edge of the field. 

Etta patted Bob’s neck gently. “You ready, boy?” 

Bob blew softly and Etta took it as a yes. She started off slowly with a walk before building to a canter, at which point she carefully let go of the reins with one hand, enjoying the way her stomach flipped as she felt slightly as though she were flying. She stayed like that for a couple laps of the field to get used to the feeling before letting go with her second hand. 

A second later, Etta found herself staring up at the sky as Bob continued to run down the field. Kate ran over to her, concerned. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. 

Etta sat up, laughing. “That was hilarious!” 

Kate let out a sigh of relief before smiling wryly. “At least there’s still plenty of snow to break your fall.” 

Etta grinned up at her. “I want to do that again. Where did Bob go?” 

“Is this perhaps Bob?” 

Etta startled at the sound of her aunt’s voice. Looking away from Kate, she saw Alyssa walking down the path to the field, holding onto Bob’s reins. She did not look impressed. 

Etta scrambled to her feet, brushing the snow off of her pants. They were a pair from a guard’s uniform that Kate had brought for her after the first riding session. She was now regretting wearing them as they weren’t what her aunt would consider appropriate attire for a princess. If she had learned only one thing about her aunt in the months since her arrival, it was that Alyssa Renard was very opinionated about the types of things that princesses were or were not to say, do, or wear. 

“Aunt Alyssa. I didn’t know you would be out today. It’s… cold,” Etta said meekly, glancing over at Kate nervously. But her guard was barely paying attention to her, instead hurrying over to take Bob from Alyssa. Alyssa nodded at her before walking across the field to Etta, leaving Kate waiting by the path. 

“So,” she said. “You’re learning how to ride.” 

“Yes,” Etta said. She was tempted to leave it at that but decided to push through. “Kate’s been teaching me all winter. I want to learn how to fight so that I can lead the army.” 

Alyssa’s lips pressed into a thin line as she studied her niece. “I’m apologize, I must have misheard you.” 

“You didn’t. I want to lead the army when Lord Preben retires. My parents had no other children, so there is no second son. You two have no children. There’s no one else to replace him.” 

“Nonsense. One of the lords will replace him,” Alyssa said as though it were obvious. 

“But that would be taking it out of the family line,” Etta said, also as though this were obvious. “It could put the crown in jeopardy.” 

Alyssa smiled at Etta as though she were a small child who had just proclaimed that they could fly. “Henrietta-“ 

“Etta,” she said firmly. “My name is Etta.” 

“Yes, Etta, of course,” she said, waving her hand as if swatting away an annoying bug. “You don’t have to worry about that, darling. The crown is perfectly safe.” 

“Maybe for now it is. But what about the future? If the army is no longer lead by our family, we no longer have control over it.” 

“You want the position and yet you have no idea how it works,” Alyssa said. 

Etta couldn’t help but be stung by that. “Excuse me?” 

She laughed lightly. “I’m sorry honey, it’s not your fault. This is your brother’s world, not yours. The king still visits the army and makes all the major decisions. Lord Preben’s role is merely that of a high ranking general. There’s just a bit more flare to it.” 

“Well maybe I still want that position! Maybe I want to fight and protect my people from the people who want to do them harm!” 

“Do you fancy yourself a guard?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Do you fancy yourself a guard?” Alyssa said. “It’s a simple enough question. You wear a guard’s uniform. You speak mostly to your personal guard. You wish to fight. Do you think that you are a guard?” 

“No. I just-“ 

“You just nothing,” she snapped. Etta flinched. “I don’t think you understand your position here. Maybe the bandits beat that knowledge from your brain, but you are not just some common girl. You are the princess. Start acting like one.” 

She walked over to Kate. “You are to cease these lessons immediately. Do you understand?” 

Kate glanced over at Etta, silently asking for her permission. Etta nodded quickly, shaking slightly. She wasn’t sure what other choice she had unless she wanted to get yelled at again. 

“I understand,” Kate said. 

“Good.” Alyssa walked back towards the palace, leaving the two girls alone in the clearing with Bob. 

Kate lead Bob over to Etta. “You weren’t serious,” she said. 

“I don’t want to upset them,” Etta said. 

“Etta, you know you have more power than her, right? You don’t have to listen to anything she says.” 

“It’s easier not to resist,” she said quietly. She took the reins from Kate. “They’re in charge until Bertie’s twenty-one. They know better than us.” 

“But-“ 

“Kate.” Etta couldn’t keep the plea out of her voice. “Just let it go, please. It’s fine, really. Let’s just go back to the palace.” 

They walked back in silence. And as they walked, Etta wished not for the first time that she hadn’t been born. Everything would just be so much easier that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr @pillowcreeks


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, time to get back into the multi-chapter fics! I've been working on this chapter since uhhhhhh about October? But it's here! It's finally here! At long last!

There was a dream that Bertie had when he was younger. 

He dreamt that he was older, that he was king. He was lying in bed, the sun shining in through the balcony doors, casting an early morning glow over the room. Beside him in bed lay a sleeping figure, their hand threaded through his with the casual serenity of someone who trusted the other person with their life. He felt his heart swell as he looked at them, unsure of who exactly they were, but positive that he loved them with everything in him. 

He would always wake up before he got to see their face. 

* * *

Bertie did not want to be here. 

He did not want to get a new betrothed. He’d had one when he was younger: a girl from one of the neighbouring kingdoms that he had been friends with. She’d drowned when they were ten. His father had never made him pick a new betrothed as Etta went missing the following year and it had never been that urgent. But his uncle had been putting pressure on him for the past couple of years, and it seemed like he had finally taken things into his own hands. 

Preben had invited the royal family of Aqua to come and visit them for a couple of weeks. Aqua was the kingdom that lay to the north of them. Like Triton, its economy was heavily based in fishing and agriculture, which made them both a fierce rival and a good prospect for a possible wife for Bertie. Fortunately, the king of Aqua had only one daughter, Laura, so at least he didn’t have to pick between girls. An alliance between the kingdoms would be good for Triton, and Preben was strongly urging Bertie to propose to Laura before the end of the visit. 

Bertie paced around his chambers, trying to keep his nerves down. He would be expected in the throne room before too long, and he was debating whether he had enough time to run away. 

“Would you please relax?” Roger snapped. “You’re making _me_ nervous.” 

“I can’t help it,” he said. 

“Why are you even stressed about this? It’s not like you have to marry this girl.” 

“That’s exactly the problem though! I don’t have to. But if I don’t choose her, then I just have to meet someone new. And she’s the best option for an alliance, so I _should_ choose her because that would be what’s best for Triton. And what if-” 

“What about what’s best for you?” Roger asked, interrupting Bertie mid-ramble. 

“What?” 

“Maybe marrying this girl is best for Triton, but is it the best thing for you?” 

“I don’t need to think about what’s best for me. I just need to do what’s best for my country.” Bertie sighed. “I have to do this right. The country needs something stable right now and I’m the only one who can give it to them.” 

“But if you’d be unhappy-“ 

“Maybe I won’t be though!” Bertie sat down on his bed, sighing. “Most royals don’t marry for love, but they find it along the way. Maybe that’ll be what happens with us. Maybe we’ll fall in love five years down the road. I have to at least give it a try.” 

“If you’re sure about it,” Roger said. 

“I’m sure. I think.” 

There was a knock at the door and Etta poked her head in. “Bertrand? They’re here.” 

He sighed. “I guess it’s time then.” 

Preben and Alyssa were waiting for them in the throne room. Alyssa didn’t pay them any mind when they came in, but Preben gave Bertie an approving nod. “You cleaned up nicely,” he said. 

“I did my best,” Bertie said as he took his place next to his uncle. 

The door to the throne room swung open and the king and queen of Aqua walked in, followed by a teenage girl, a young man, and a small boy. The girl - Laura - was beautiful and looked like she would be nice, which was a good start. She was only a little taller than Etta, with long blonde hair that was pulled back from her face in a bun, and pale skin. She glanced over at Bertie nervously as they walked in and smiled when she caught his eye. Etta nudged him excitedly and Bertie resisted the urge to kick her in the shin. 

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” Preben said, bowing to the king and queen. “I hope your journey was enjoyable.” 

“It was satisfactory,” the king said. His voice was deep and gruff, like his throat was full of gravel. “You have a very beautiful kingdom. Lots of lovely trees.” 

Preben dipped his head. “Thank you, Your Majesty. May I introduce my niece and nephew, the Princess Henrietta and Prince Bertrand.” 

Etta made a slight face at her name and the king frowned. “Yes. They have grown since we were last here. Very… tall.” 

Bertie bit his lip to keep from laughing and Preben shot him a sharp look. There were many things that you could describe Etta as, but tall was not one of them. 

“These are my children,” the king continued. “Prince Frank, Princess Laura, and Prince Jamie.” 

“Wonderful to meet you,” Preben said. “We’ll have someone show you to your rooms, and then we’ll have a feast tonight to celebrate your arrival.” 

A servant lead the royal family out of the throne room, Laura shooting Bertie another furtive glance as they left. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Preben looked over at the royal siblings in exasperation. 

“Would it have really been too much to ask for you two to behave for just five minutes? To not be an embarrassment for just five minutes?” he asked. 

“Yes,” they both said at once and Bertie could see Roger facepalming at the side of the room as Kate tried not to laugh. 

Preben scowled. “Behave tonight. There’s a lot depending on how these next few weeks go and I will not have you throwing away this country’s future simply because you never learned proper manners.” 

He left the throne room, Alyssa following him after giving them a dirty look. Bertie collapsed on the steps leading up to the throne with a sigh. Etta sat down beside him and patted his knee. 

“It’ll be okay,” she said. “Alyssa yells at me all the time. You get used to it.” 

“He’s right though,” Bertie said. “I can take him being mad at me, but I hate it when he’s mad and right.” 

“This isn’t our only chance,” Etta said. “There’s tons of other kingdoms out there, tons of other pretty girls for you to marry if you don’t like this one.” 

“But this is the best option.” Bertie sighed and stood up. “I’d better go get changed for tonight. Can you… Can I ask you to look after the brothers this week? I should be focusing all of my attention on Laura, but we don’t want them to be neglected. Especially Frank. He’s the heir, so we need good relations with him.” 

“Sure. I can tell them all about my adventures with the bandits.” 

“Etta.” 

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not… good at talking with other royals. I will do it though. As well as I can.” 

“I know you will.” 

* * *

Feasts were not something that Bertie had to deal with very often in the past. They had been fairly common during the first ten years of his life, but since he was so young, he had been kept out of the way and he and Etta had taken dinner up in their rooms. After Etta and her mother went missing, his father had never had the spirit to keep up the practice. And after his father died, Preben had wanted to keep other royals away as much as possible to avoid them seeing the cracks in the foundation of the country. They’d had a few feasts here and there, but they weren’t as common in Triton as they were in other kingdoms. 

One thing that Bertie was very quickly learning about feasts was that he did not like them. Not one bit. 

Well, maybe one bit. Or two. He liked the food and, much to his surprise, he liked Laura. 

“Your jester taught you how to perform routines?” he asked, surprised. 

She nodded. “Yes. It took a lot of convincing, and we had to do it without my parents knowledge at first, but he did it. I figured I needed something to keep me occupied between studies. And sometimes during them,” she said with a sheepish grin. 

Bertie grinned back. “That’s amazing! I don’t suppose you’d show me one sometime?” 

“I’d love to,” she said, smiling softly. Her eyes were green, the same colour as spring grass. Pretty. “I heard your sister knows how to ride?” 

Bertie nodded. “Her guard taught her a couple years ago. She’s quite good at it.” 

“Oh, that’s fantastic. I’d love to learn, but I think that would be too much for my father. His daughter, charging across a field at top speeds? He’d probably have a heart attack.” 

“Our aunt was furious when she found out. But there wasn’t much she could do: Etta and Bob are practically inseparable.” Bertie left out the part where Etta had also been learning how to fight and Alyssa _had_ actually been able to stop that - Laura didn’t need to know all their family secrets yet. 

“Bob?” Laura looked like she was trying not to laugh. 

“Yes, that’s what she called her horse. It’s okay, you can laugh.” 

“I would never. Bob is a very serious and noble name, perfectly suited for-“ she dissolved into laughter and Bertie grinned. 

“I know, right? I tried to convince her to rename it, but she’s stuck on Bob.” 

“Well I’m glad she’s got something so interesting to keep her occupied. When… Well, when we heard about her coming back, I couldn’t imagine how she would be able to manage it.” 

Bertie frowned. “Well, it was definitely hard.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Laura said. 

“It’s fine,” Bertie said. 

“We can talk about something else,” she said. She glanced around the room for a new topic, her eyes finally settling on where Roger was talking with her guard, Yvette. “Your guard. Do you like him?” 

“Of course,” Bertie said, surprised. “Why, do you not like yours?” 

Laura’s ears turned red. “No, I do! I just… was making conversation.” She grabbed her glass of wine and drained half of it before turning back to Bertie. “Your turn.” 

“No, I like this subject.” Bertie said with a grin. He especially liked how flustered Laura got whenever she talked about her guard. It was cute. 

Laura huffed and shoved his shoulder lightly. “You are a very rude man.” 

Bertie frowned. “Sorry.” 

She grinned. “I like it.” 

He felt a smile spread across his face again. “So. Your guard. Tell me about her.” 

“She is…” Laura paused, considering her words carefully. “Very protective,” she said at last. 

Bertie laughed. “Well, that’s what you want in a guard.” 

“Oh, she’s protective for a guard,” Laura said, rolling her eyes. “I practically had to bribe her not to stand over my shoulder all night so that we could actually talk properly. She was convinced that you were going to try to poison me.” 

“And you’re not?” He realized a second later how threatening that sounded. “I mean, not that I would, of course! You have nothing to worry about around me! I would never hurt you!” 

Laura laughed at his rambling. “I know that. I’ve heard stories about Triton’s sweet prince. I was very excited to meet you.” 

“You were?” Bertie felt a blush creep up his neck. A sudden flash of shame exploded in his chest as he remembered how much he had been dreading meeting Laura. She had been looking forward to meeting him and he had been considering running away. 

“Yes. I think… I think we’d make a good match. And I’m looking forward to talking with you further.” 

Bertie smiled slightly. “I’m looking forward to that too.” 

* * *

The next week and a half passed in a flurry of walks and dodging Preben’s incessant questions about when Bertie was going to propose. Laura was funny and kind and Bertie felt like if he did marry her, they would be happy. Maybe over time they could even fall in love. But he wanted to talk to her about the possibility before talking to his uncle. He didn’t want to tell Preben that he was going to propose and then have Laura think he was a complete idiot and have Preben give him that long suffering _you’re an idiot_ look. 

As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about bringing it up after all. One afternoon, as they were talking in the gardens, Laura suddenly became very quiet and looked uncomfortable, like she was sitting on a thorn. 

“Is everything alright?” Bertie asked. 

“Yes. It’s just…” Laura sighed. “Well, no. Everything’s not alright. Well, not completely. I mean, it is but it also isn’t.” 

“I’m confused.” 

“I like you a lot, Bertie. And I would like to marry you, but-“ 

“I haven’t even asked yet,” Bertie said, his ears hot. 

Laura’s cheeks flushed. “I know. And I know that this is terribly presumptuous of me, but things have been going so well and I wanted to tell you before things continue.” 

“Tell me what?” 

“If we were to get married, I could never love you.” 

His heart jerked in his chest, as though someone had suddenly twisted a knife into it. “I-I don’t understand… Did I do something wrong? Did I say something to upset you?” 

“No no, it’s not that!” Laura took his hand in hers. “You have been nothing but one of the most absolutely wonderful people I have ever met. But I… I have never fallen in love with a man. And I don’t think I ever will.” 

“I don’t- Oh!” 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

“I… I think so.” Bertie understood better than he was willing to admit. He’d grown up in a castle filled with very muscular and attractive guards of all genders - his teenage years had been very confusing and very frustrating. 

It wasn’t unheard of for someone to be attracted to the same gender. It was actually rather common, particularly in larger villages or the capital, where couples relied less on children to help out with the farms or there were more orphans that needed a home. But royals didn’t have the option to marry someone of the same gender unless they had transitioned, due to the need to produce an heir. 

“I just… I wanted that to be out in the open before anything else happens. I understand if this changes things.” 

“It doesn’t,” Bertie said. “I want to marry you.” 

“Bertie.” Laura met his eyes, her gaze firm. “I need you to understand. If you marry me, you will never have a wife who loves you.” 

“I understand.” Bertie thought of his childhood dream, the unconditional love that he had always searched for, and quietly bid them farewell as he sank to a knee in the dirt. “And I want to marry you. If you’ll have me. I know I’m not what you want, but there’s lots of very pretty girls in the capital, and I’m fairly certain that the princess of Neptune was admiring Etta the last time she was here, so we could have her over a lot and-“ 

Laura laughed and pulled him back up onto the bench. “I’m sure she’s lovely, but I’ve already found my perfect girl.” 

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. 

She blushed and glanced over at where Yvette and Roger were standing guard. “Yeah.” 

Bertie laughed. “And that’s why you were so flustered when I asked if you didn’t like her.” 

“Oh, you’re going to be impossible to live with for the next fifty years, aren’t you?” Laura grumbled. 

“So you’ll have me then?” Bertie asked. “You never did give me an answer.” 

“Oh! Yes, of course I’ll have you. I’d be delighted to,” she said. 

Bertie threaded his fingers through hers. “You forgot about what you’ll be giving up too though.” 

She looked up at him. “What?” 

“The possibility of a wife who loves you,” he said. 

Laura sighed and looked down at their hands. “No,” she said. “That was never really an option. But I think I’ll be alright with a loving husband and the possibility of a very appreciative Neptunian princess.” 

“Or maybe your guard loves you back?” 

“I would love that, but no. And even if that were true, she’s my guard. It would never be accepted.” 

“It doesn’t hurt to have a dream though,” Bertie said. 

“Maybe. But maybe it does if that dream could never be a reality.” 

* * *

Etta trapped Bertie on his way up to his chambers when he and Laura came back. She looked intent on murder. 

“Please tell me that you like Laura and are planning on marrying her. Preben just told me that if you two don’t get married, _I_ have to marry _Frank_ and I will kill somebody if that happens. It will probably be Frank, but who knows? It might be Preben. Oh gosh, Alyssa would be torture during my engagement, it might actually be her instead. Or maybe all three of them.” 

“Please don’t murder anybody,” Bertie said. “If you marry Preben or Alyssa, I’ll have to throw you in the dungeon. And if you murder Frank, you’ll cause a war.” 

“Well then you’d better have some good news for me, Bertrand,” she said. 

“You’ll be happy to know that I do like Laura and I just proposed to her. We’ll be announcing it officially tonight.” 

“Bertrand!” Etta hugged him tightly. “That’s fantastic! I’m so happy for you!” 

He tried to ignore the small twist of pain in his gut. “Yes. It’s… It’s great news.” 

“What’s wrong?” Etta let go of him, looking worried. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“No, something’s bothering you. You’ve got that weird tight look that you get whenever you’re upset.” 

“I just… Do you ever imagine what your life will be like in ten years?” 

“I try to, but then I start panicking because I have no idea what my role is since I was kidnapped, but sure. Imaginary ten years time life.” 

Bertie winced. “Right. Sorry. I didn’t think about that.” 

“It’s fine. So what’s your life like in ten years?” she asked. 

“That’s the problem. I always imagined that I’d meet someone and we’d fall in love and be so happy and-“ He sighed. “Laura just told me that she could never love me. Not in that way.” 

“Then why’d you propose? If she’s not going to make you happy-“ 

“But that’s just it. She will make me happy. I know that if we get married, I’ll be so happy. Lots of royals aren’t in love with their spouses, I just-“ 

“Wanted to be one of the ones that was,” Etta finished for him. “It’s probably because of your parents.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well they were in love, right? Some people believe that the children of royals who were in love feel love even more strongly because they were born out of love. They’re constantly looking for love whereas the rest of us can approach our marriages with a more clinical lens.” 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Bertie said. “And it’s not that big a deal, really. I want to marry Laura. It’s just hard to let go of that dream, you know?” 

“Yeah.” Etta took his hand in hers. “But maybe you don’t need to let go of it completely.” 

“What do you mean?” 

She took a deep breath. “When I think of the future, I imagine us all together. You, me, Mother and Father. And I know that’s not something that could happen, and it hurts to think about it sometimes, but it’s nice to have that imaginary world where they can see how we turned out, you know?” 

Bertie hugged her tightly. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do know.” 

* * *

There was a ball the evening before the Aqua royals’ departure to celebrate the engagement between Bertie and Laura. It was the first ball that Etta had ever attended and she was bursting with excitement for it. She had gotten all dressed up for it in a sparkling green gown and had tried to convince Kate to dress up as well, but all the guards were on duty that night and weren’t allowed out of the uniform. 

“You look amazing though,” Kate said after she explained the rule. “Very regal.” 

“Thanks. It would be more fun if you were being regal alongside me though,” she said. 

“You’ll still have fun tonight.” 

Etta grimaced. “Doubtful. I have to spend the entire evening with Frank.” Jamie wasn’t that bad, but Frank was a nightmare. 

“But it’s your last night having to deal with him. Focus on that.” 

“The last night until the next time they come.” She groaned. “I’m going to have to deal with him for the rest of my life, won’t I? That’s what marriage means.” 

“But you don’t have to marry him so it’s less time than the alternative,” Kate said. 

She sighed. “Right. Positivity. I can do that.” 

The ballroom had been decorated in flowers and streamers. It looked very nice and Etta tried to focus on that rather than on the fact that she would be expected to keep Frank entertained the entire night. Bertie was talking with Laura, and she headed over to greet them. 

“Hi Etta, how are you enjoying the ball?” Laura asked. 

“It’s good. Actually, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?” she asked. 

“Of course.” 

The two of them drew off to one side and Etta tried to figure out how to broach the delicate subject. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but… Bertrand told me that you said that you could never love him and I just wanted to know why you think that. I mean, never is a long time and-“ 

“Etta.” Laura interrupted her. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for your brother, but this is something I’m certain of.” 

“But how? I know you haven’t known each other for very long, but Bertrand’s sweet and you may-“ 

“I won’t. I have never fallen in love with a man and I doubt that I ever will.” 

“Well how many men do you actually know?” Etta asked. “Maybe it’s just-“ 

“Etta,” Laura said, exasperated. “I don’t fall in love with men. I fall in love with _women._ ” 

Etta blinked. “You can do that?” 

Laura’s face changed from annoyed to amused. 

“Yes,” she said with a small laugh. “It’s actually quite common. Of course, as a royal, I can’t marry a woman unless she were to have transitioned, so I’m afraid I’m stuck breaking your brother’s heart.” 

Etta was stunned. “Does everyone know that?” 

“That I only love women? No, just your brother. And I suppose now you too.” 

“No, that women can love other women.” 

“Well, yes, most people. I suppose you were taken by the bandits before your parents talked to you about marriage then?” 

She nodded. “I’m… I’m sorry if I was rude.” 

Laura smiled. “It’s fine. I thought you would have known about it already, seeing as…” 

Etta tilted her head to the side. “Seeing as what?” 

“It’s nothing.” She was looking at the other side of the room. Etta followed her gaze to where Bertie stood talking to Kate and Roger. He was smiling brighter than he had all week. “I just suspect that you and your brother may understand more than many other people could.” 

Before Etta got a chance to ask what she meant by that, Frank had approached them. “Care to dance?” he asked Etta. 

She tried not to grimace. _Keep the peace. Keep him entertained while Bertie changes his life for the entire country. This is small in comparison._

“I’d love to,” she said through gritted teeth. 

As they danced away, Etta noticed that Laura’s eyes had drifted away from the trio and were focused on Yvette making her way towards her. As she reached her, Laura smiled widely and Etta wondered why she and Bertie had to get married when they both seemed much happier around their guards than around each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr @pillowcreeks. Feedback is appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

The world was spinning. Bertie felt as though he were about to throw up. There was something soft underneath him. A bed. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and Roger came into focus. 

“Bertie? Bertie, can you hear me?” 

“I… I can hear you…” he mumbled. 

Roger took his face in his hands, looking worried. “Are you okay?” 

“I think… I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

He disappeared and returned a moment later with a metal bucket. “Just in case.” 

Bertie nodded groggily and found his head resting in the bucket a second later. The metal felt cool against his skin. Roger didn’t seem to appreciate the feeling as much as him and his head was lifted back up surprisingly gently for his grumpy guard. “Do you want me to get a doctor?” 

“I think he’s just in shock.” Bertie hadn’t seen Kate come in. Etta was hovering behind her, looking terrified. 

“I’m fine,” he said to her, trying to sit up and appear strong. Etta’s expression shifted from fear to doubt. 

“You just head-butted a bucket. You don’t look very fine,” she said. 

Roger gave her a sharp look. “He’s just received terrible news. Give him a few minutes to process it before you start mocking him.” 

“I wasn’t mocking him. It was gentle teasing between siblings.” 

“Whatever you call it, it can wait.” 

Kate knelt next to Roger. “Bertie? Can you tell us what happened?” 

“What happened?” he asked. He heard the words, but couldn’t quite understand them. It was as if she were talking to him through a gallon of water. 

“We saw you go by the library. You seemed upset, so we followed you,” Etta said, sitting next to him. “What did you and Preben talk about?” 

“I… He…” 

“Someone tried to kill Laura,” Roger supplied helpfully. 

“What?!” Both girls stared at him in shock. 

“She’s fine. Whatever they used didn’t work.” 

“She’s not fine!” Bertie snapped. “She’s in a coma!” 

“But she’s not dead,” he said. 

“She’s in a coma? What happened?” Etta asked. She was clutching Kate’s hand tightly. 

“It looks like someone tried to poison her,” Roger said. “They must not have used enough of the poison, or it wasn’t potent enough, because she’s still alive, albeit comatose.” 

“Are they sure it was an attack? She’s not just sick?” 

“Lord Preben is certain. It appears they caught the would-be assassin trying to flee the castle grounds. Unfortunately, he was killed by one of the guards in a skirmish before he could tell them what poison he used so they could reverse the coma.” 

“The assassin’s dead?” Etta visibly relaxed. 

“That one is. Lord Preben…” Roger glanced at Bertie. He gave him a small nod. “He thinks that it might be a group of them. First there was your father’s assassination, and now Laura has been attacked shortly after the announcement of her engagement to Bertie. He thinks there might be someone trying to come after your family. After all, there was no reason to attack Laura. She’s not an heir and Frank was in the castle at the time. It would make much more sense to have attacked him or the king. Laura’s only important because of her connection to Bertie.” 

“She’s important because she’s Laura,” Bertie said sharply, feeling a hot flash of rage in his gut. 

Roger gave him a small nod. “You know what I meant.” 

Bertie sighed. “Right. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Does Preben think that someone will come after you next?” Etta asked Bertie. The fear had returned to her eyes, and she had a handful of blanket in the hand that wasn’t gripping Kate’s. Kate had a slightly pained expression, but she made no move to retract her hand. 

“Maybe. Probably. I’m… I’m not really sure. I panicked and left as soon as I heard about Laura,” he admitted. 

“You should probably get back down there,” Kate said. 

Bertie sighed. “Right. He’ll be pretty angry though. Maybe I should give him time to cool down before-“ 

Roger rolled his eyes and pulled Bertie to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said, dragging Bertie off down the hall. 

“Good luck!” Etta called after them. 

Bertie pouted. “He’s going to kill me. He hates it when I run off like that.” 

“Maybe you should stop running off then,” Roger said. 

“I was panicking. He hates me panicking more than he hates me running off.” 

“You’re the prince. He’s a lord. He’ll just have to learn to deal with it.” 

“Better not let him hear you say that. He’d smack you for insubordination,” Bertie said. 

“He’s not allowed to hit the prince though.” 

Bertie took Roger’s hand in his. “I’d kill him if he ever dared to smack you.” 

“He’s allowed to smack me,” Roger said simply. “I’m a guard.”

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get to hit you and get away with it.” 

“He hits the other guards. I’m not any different.” 

“Of course you are,” Bertie said. “You’re mine.” 

* * *

“You alright?” Kate asked Etta. She was still shaking slightly after their talk with Bertie. 

“I’m fine, I just…” She sighed. “Sometimes it feels like we’re cursed. I know that sounds ridiculous, but-“ 

“It doesn’t,” Kate said immediately. Etta raised an eyebrow. “Plenty of people think that your family’s cursed. Bertie’s mother dies, your mother dies, you get kidnapped, your father is killed, Bertie’s first betrothed drowned and now someone tries to kill Laura? People are talking.” 

“My mother’s not dead.” 

“Etta…” 

“She’s not,” she said firmly. “I don’t know where she is or what happened to her, but she’s not dead. I just… She’s not.” 

Kate sighed. “Alright. Your mother goes missing then. It seems like your family just has a never ending string of bad luck.” 

“There’s no such thing as a curse,” Etta said, grouchy after the mention of her mother. 

“I thought you said-“ 

“Ignore what I said. There’s no such thing as a curse and I’m going to prove it.” 

* * *

Bertie let go of Roger’s hand as they entered the throne room. Preben was waiting for them, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. Bertie resisted the urge to run away or grab Roger’s hand again. 

“Are you done now?” Preben asked. “We have business to attend to.” 

“Business? Shouldn’t we be doing something about Laura’s death? We need to help them find out who did this to her,” Bertie said. 

“That is precisely what we need to talk about.” Preben walked over to a table with a map of the realm on it. His hand rested on his sword hilt as he walked, as though bracing himself for an attack. “An alliance with Aqua is no longer viable. We need to choose a new betrothed for you.” 

“What?” An unexpected surge of anger rose in Bertie’s chest. How could he be expected to pick a new betrothed barely an hour after he heard that someone tried to kill Laura? How was he supposed to find someone he got along with as well as Laura? He barely even wanted to meet her, and now he was expected to meet even more people? 

“You heard me.” 

“She’s not dead. She’ll be fine in just a few weeks,” he said, trying to convince himself just as much as Preben. 

“That’s doubtful,” he said. “She’s comatose. She’ll be dead in just a few weeks.” 

“It’s undiplomatic,” Bertie said, desperation welling up inside him. “All the work we did to secure a good relationship with Aqua would be ruined.” 

Preben gave him an exasperated look. “Bertrand. Please cooperate.” 

“You said yourself that she’ll be dead within a few weeks! Can’t we wait until then? I promise I will choose someone then and Aqua will keep their alliance.” 

He sighed and rolled up the map. “Fine.” Bertie visibly relaxed. Preben pointed the rolled up map at him. “But if you don’t choose, I’ll choose for you. I’m tired of your indecision.” 

He stormed out of the throne room, followed by a handful of guards. Bertie sighed and sank to the steps at the base of the thrones. Roger sat down next to him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I’m… I don’t know. I just… I’m tired. And I’m scared.” Bertie looked over at Roger. His eyes had darkened with concern. “What if he’s right? What if Laura dies?” 

“I don’t know,” Roger admitted. “But I do know that you’ll make it through. You always do.” 

Bertie sighed. “Yes. I always do.” 

* * *

“Etta, this is a terrible idea!” 

“It is not,” she said stubbornly. Etta had climbed to the top of one of the trees on the palace grounds. Her plan was to jump down and if she was fine, then there was no curse. If she broke her neck, she would admit to the possibility of a curse. Kate was staring up at her from the ground, her face filled with fear. 

“You’re going to kill yourself!” Kate said. 

“No I won’t,” Etta said. “Because there’s no such thing as curses.” 

“This isn’t a matter of whether or not you’re cursed, it’s a matter of fact! And the fact is, if you jump from the top of a tree, you’re going to get hurt!” 

“I’ll be fine,” Etta said before launching herself out of the tree. 

Luckily for her, Kate was a good catch. The two girls went tumbling to the ground in a heap of limbs and bumped foreheads. 

“Ow,” Etta muttered, rubbing her head. 

“Are you alright?” Kate reached up to touch the small bump on Etta’s forehead. 

Her cheeks flushed. “I’m fine. See? No curse.” 

Kate stared at her for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. 

“Sure,” she said. “No curse.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr @pillowcreeks! Feedback and/or comments are appreciated! Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super proud of this chapter and how it turned out and the next few chapters are the ones I've been waiting for since I started this story so I really hope you enjoy it!! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated and you can find me on tumblr @pillowcreeks

There was a tradition in Triton that had fallen somewhat out of practice in recent years. Really it was one of many traditions that had fallen off to the side as the kingdom struggled with its various crisis. But this was one that the entire kingdom had loved and it was finally coming back: the tournament. 

The tournament pitched the castle guards and knights against one another in armed combat. It was, in theory, open to members of the general public, but so few volunteered as they were usually defeated in the first round. It was typically a knight who ended up bringing home the title of champion, but there were two guards who were favourites to win this year, namely the prince and princess’ personal guards. 

“I can’t believe you’ll be fighting knights,” Etta said excitedly. She watched Kate pull on her armour. The guards’ day-to-day uniforms consisted of lightweight armour, typically only a chest-plate worn under their shirts, and it was odd to see Kate outfitted in full armour. 

Kate scoffed. “Knights are just guards with a fancy title.” 

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” she said. “They also have very fragile egos.” 

“Fragile egos that I plan on crushing.” 

“Do you think you stand a chance at winning?” Etta asked. 

“I was assigned as the princess’ personal guard when I was only sixteen years old.” Kate flashed her a cocky grin. “I think I stand a pretty good chance.” 

It was true. Personal guards assigned to princes and princesses were usually a fair bit older than they were. They didn’t receive one until they were about twelve or thirteen, and as most guards didn’t begin training until they were fourteen or fifteen, it was unusual to see one assigned to a royal when they were still close in age. Kate and Roger had been the exceptions to the rule, as they had arrived at the palace with previous combat experience. King David had thought that having personal guards closer to their age would help Bertie and Etta, as they both had rather secluded early teenage years. 

“What about Roger? He was assigned when he was fifteen,” Etta teased. 

“He was only assigned younger because there was someone there,” Kate said before freezing. “I mean-“ 

“It’s fine,” Etta said quickly. “Show me your armour.” 

Kate grabbed the last couple of pieces off the bench. Typically a princess wouldn’t be allowed in the tent while a guard was preparing for a tournament, but Kate and Etta were used to bending the rules. “These are for protecting my arms.” 

“Can you even move with all that metal weighing you down?” Etta asked. 

“You grow accustomed to it,” Kate said. “How do I look?” 

“Like a warrior.” Etta hesitated. “Is it true that knights wear tokens from admirers in the tournament?” 

“Some of them. Usually only the really popular ones. Or the ones who are married or have partners.” 

Etta untied a ribbon from her hair and held it out to Kate. “Here.” 

She stared at it in surprise. “What?” 

“It’s a token. For you. To show that you’re just as good as those knights. I mean, a token from the princess has to be better than sixty tokens from farm girls, right?” 

Kate was quiet for a moment before a smile spread across her face and she took the token from Etta. “If you’re sure.” 

“Positive. Who else am I supposed to support?” Etta’s ears turned red as she stumbled over her next words. “Besides, you really are the best in the land and I do think you’re going to win.” 

She grinned. “Well then I shouldn’t disappoint.” 

“Do you want me to tie it for you?” 

Kate nodded and Etta took the ribbon back from her. The metal of Kate’s armour was cool underneath her fingertips as she tied the small piece of pink fabric to her upper arm. Etta glanced up at Kate’s face. Her eyelashes were brushing her cheeks lightly as she watched Etta’s hands. She had a few freckles on her nose that Etta had never noticed before. She counted five before her fingers slipped and she almost dropped the ribbon. 

Kate laughed softly, barely more than a breath. “Careful.” 

Etta felt her cheeks heat up and she quickly tied the ribbon off. “There you go,” she squeaked, stepping back quickly and almost tripping over the bench. Kate caught her before she could fall. Etta’s cheeks burned. 

“What happened to being careful?” Kate asked, laughing. 

“I didn’t see the bench,” Etta said, her cheeks puffing out slightly in a pout. 

Kate poked her cheek. “Clearly.” 

She huffed. “Oh, just… Go be awesome,” she said before scurrying quickly out of the tent. 

Once outside, Etta buried her face in her hands, blushing harder than she thought she ever had in her entire life. What was going on? Since when did she get so flustered around Kate? It was Kate. The girl who talked her out of her panic attacks and stayed with her until she fell asleep. She was embarrassed then, sure, but never flustered. If she could keep most of her cool then, why was she losing it completely just because Kate had held her? 

_Maybe because her arms are very muscular and you like how they feel,_ her subconscious spoke up. 

Etta pushed the thought away. Yes, she had been thinking more about girls and how pretty they were ever since Laura had told her that she could fall in love with women, but she hadn’t thought of Kate in that way. In fact, she had been aggressively not thinking about Kate because thinking about Kate and how pretty her eyes were and how soft her cheek looked, like it would be the perfect spot to kiss - those thoughts weren’t allowed. They were distracting. And complicated. And she didn’t need things any more complicated than they already were. 

Except Kate’s cheeks did look like they would be perfect for kissing. And her chin. And forehead. And _lips._

Etta definitely hadn’t been thinking about Kate’s lips. 

She shook her head, trying to clear it, and made her way across the tournament grounds to the arena. There was a special booth set aside for the royals, and Bertie was already sitting in it. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her. 

“What happened to your hair?” he asked. 

Etta raised a hand self-consciously. “Is it really that bad?” 

“I wouldn’t say _bad,_ just… lopsided? A little undone? Did you lose a ribbon?” 

She felt her cheeks heat up again. “I gave Kate one of my ribbons as a token.” 

Bertie grinned. “Aw. That’s sweet. It’s a shame she’s going to lose.” 

Etta crossed her arms, eyebrows raised. “Oh is she?” 

He leaned towards her, his grin more relaxed than she’d seen it in weeks. “Fifteen. Roger’s going to beat her easy.” 

Etta smirked and sat back in her chair. “We’ll see about that.” 

* * *

Technically speaking, Bertie wasn’t supposed to show favouritism. With only a few weeks left to go until his twenty-first birthday and his ascension to the throne, he _really_ wasn’t supposed to show favouritism. But it was hard not to when he knew that Roger was easily going to beat everyone else and be amazing. 

Knowing basic facts wasn’t favouritism. 

Besides, Etta had a favourite. Why couldn’t he? 

“Ooo, look! Here she goes!” Etta tugged on his sleeve excitedly as Kate walked into the arena. She had never seen her guard fight before and was on the edge of her seat in anticipation. Bertie, who had been watching Kate train since she had arrived at the palace, was much less excited but couldn’t help grinning at his sister. She was in for quite the show. 

The poor guard that Kate was facing up against gripped her sword nervously as they circled each other. Kate had quite the reputation among the guards for being fast and brutal, a reputation that she had earned and demonstrated as she charged the guard, flipping her over easily and pinning her to the ground with a sword to her throat. 

Etta jumped to her feet with a loud cheer. “I told you she was good,” she said, looking over at Bertie. 

He smirked at her as he clapped. “Just wait.” 

Roger wasn’t up for a few rounds, and the siblings quietly whispered bets to one another as each pair stepped into the arena. Preben kept sending them disapproving looks for talking, but it was nothing compared to what he would have given them had he known that they were betting. 

Finally, Roger walked into the arena and Bertie’s heart jumped into his throat. He’d never seen Roger in full armour before and… Wow. He didn’t know what it was about it, but knights always looked ten times hotter when they were in armour. And Roger in armour was about twenty times hotter than usual and how had he never noticed before how hot Roger usually was? 

“Are you alright?” Etta asked. 

Bertie shook his head, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts related to how attractive his guard was. “Yes. Fine. Sorry. Why?” 

“You just looked really dazed all of a sudden. Are you just now realizing how little a chance Roger stands against Kate?” she teased. 

“You wish.” 

Roger didn’t have quite the same reputation among the guards that Kate did. While Kate was known for being fast and brutal, ending her spars in one or two quick moves, Roger was slower, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He was built more for endurance than for speed. After a couple of minutes of duelling, he had his opponent backed against the wall, his sword pointed at their chest. 

Bertie applauded calmly, trying to seem impartial but unable to control the wide grin that spread across his face. Etta rolled her eyes. “He’s still going to lose when he has to face off against Kate,” she said. 

“We’ll see,” Bertie said. Roger glanced over at him as he walked out of the arena and Bertie felt his stomach flip. 

There was a short break after the first round and Etta immediately ran off to visit Kate in her tent. Bertie looked around for Roger’s tent and found it near the edge of the field. Roger was lying on the ground inside, his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful, unlike literally any other time Bertie had seen him. 

“I’m not asleep and can stab you if you try to attack me,” Roger said, ruining the image. 

“I’m not going to attack you,” Bertie said. 

He opened his eyes. “Oh, it’s you.” 

“Gee, thanks. It’s good to see you too.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I figured I would come and see how you were doing. You had an impressive first round.” 

“I missed their legs when I tried to swipe them. I could have done better.” 

“I thought it was amazing. You’re very talented,” Bertie said, heat creeping up his neck. 

“You sound surprised.” 

“I’m not. I’ve always known you were a good fighter, I just… I don’t know, this is the first time I’ve really noticed it.” It was the first time he was noticing a lot of things. Like the way Roger’s eyes caught the light, turning them a soft caramel colour. How he was just a bit shorter than Bertie, short enough that he’d have to tilt his head down slightly to kiss Roger, but not so much that it would be uncomfortable. Perfectly normal things to notice about your guard that you had completely platonic feelings for. 

Roger scoffed. “Okay. Whatever you say.” 

“Etta thinks that Kate will beat you,” Bertie said, sitting next to him on the ground. 

“Hm. Maybe. Kate’s a strong fighter.” 

“You’re stronger.” 

“So you bet on me then? That’s showing favouritism.” 

“So is betting on Kate.” 

“Etta’s not the future king.” 

“I’ve got two more weeks. Let me be a stupid prince for a little longer.” 

Roger gave him a small smile and Bertie’s heart nearly stopped. “Right, because you’re characterized by being a stupid prince.” 

“Never too late to start,” he said. 

“I think two weeks before your coronation is too late.” 

“I’m doing it in the nick of time.” 

He snorted. “Alright.” 

“Anyways, you need to beat Kate so that I can rub it in Etta’s face,” Bertie said. 

“Is increased immaturity also part of this stupid prince act?” 

“Of course. Everyone knows that princes are wildly immature.” 

Roger laughed and Bertie was certain that he had never heard a more beautiful sound in his entire life. It was hard to get Roger to laugh - he seemed to be the only one able to do it - but it was always worth the extra work to see him genuinely happy for a few seconds. 

There was the sound of a bell from outside and Roger sat up with a sigh. “That’s the sign for the second round. You’d better get back to your seat.” 

“Good luck,” Bertie said, rising to his feet. He had the sudden urge to kiss Roger on the cheek before leaving and had to restrain himself from leaning down to do so. He hurried back to the arena, flustered and confused. 

Etta noticed his flushed cheeks when he entered the booth. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m fine,” he said, a little too quickly. She gave him a suspicious look. 

It was hard to focus on the next few rounds, particularly when Roger was in the arena. They passed in blurs, his mind preoccupied with playing over every interaction he’d had with his guard in the last seven years. How had he been so oblivious? Roger was smart and caring and brave and brash and stubborn and impatient and rude and _perfect._ And it had taken him seven years to realize. 

Not that the realization did him much good. He was his guard. There was no possibility of a relationship there for so many reasons. Starting with the fact that one, he was already betrothed, two, there was no way that they could ever even get married because they couldn’t produce an heir and three, _he was his guard._ If Roger had been a nobleman, maybe things would be different. It wasn’t unheard of for royals to have affairs with people of the same gender, but never with a guard. But most important, the thing that would be stopping them even if everything else wasn’t an issue, was number four: Roger didn’t like him back. There was absolutely no possibility of that. 

Bertie groaned and slid down in his chair, earning himself another concerned glance from Etta. He shook his head, indicating that he was fine and she should stop worrying. There was nothing that she could do to help him anyways. 

Finally, the only match-up that the siblings truly cared about arrived. Kate and Roger were going up against each other in the final match. Etta gave Bertie a smug look as they walked into the arena to loud applause. 

“That’s all for Kate,” she said. 

“You know they’re cheering for both of them, right?” Bertie replied. 

Etta rolled her eyes. “You keep telling yourself that.” 

Kate and Roger circled each other slowly, carefully gauging where the best place to attack would be. Kate made the first move, swinging her sword directly at Roger’s head. He ducked and twisted away as she lunged at him. He aimed a blow at her side as she passed by, one that Kate deftly blocked. They sparred briefly before Kate tried to duck around Roger. He turned quickly in attempt to keep up with her speed and she easily knocked him off balance. He landed on his back in the dirt and Kate pointed her sword at his throat, grinning. She said something to him and Bertie could see Roger rolling his eyes from the other side of the arena. 

“I told you she was better than him,” Etta said smugly. 

“Fine, you win,” Bertie said. 

“What do I get?” 

“I’ll smuggle some pastries out of the kitchen for you.” 

“Yes!” 

* * *

“You won!” Etta said, ducking under the flap to Kate’s tent. 

Kate was halfway through removing her armour, her leg guards sitting on the bench next to her. She grinned at Etta as she came in. 

“It was all thanks to your lucky charm,” she said, untying the ribbon from her armour. She held it out to Etta. “Thank you.” 

Etta shook her head. “Keep it! If it’s lucky, I want you to have it.” 

“Are you sure?” Kate asked. Her cheeks were tinged pink. 

“Of course. A little extra luck can go a long way.” 

Kate smiled and tucked it into her pocket. “Thank you.” 

“Wait, you’ll lose it like that. Here.” She held out her hand for the ribbon. Kate gave it to her and Etta tied it around her ponytail. Kate’s hair was soft and silky smooth. It was like running her hands through water. “Now you’ll always have it on you and you’ll look pretty. Not that you don’t already look pretty,” she said quickly. 

Kate laughed. “Thank you. I’ll wear it every day until I get told off for not conforming to uniform standards.” 

“Ugh, conforming. That sounds terrible. I suppose you could tie it around your wrist or ankle or somewhere it won’t be noticed. Not as cute though.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell the officers that,” she teased. 

Etta smiled. “Come on. The feast’ll be starting soon. I think missing a feast thrown in your honour is a greater offence to the officers than a mere ribbon is.” 

* * *

“I’m sorry I didn’t win for you,” Roger said as they walked upstairs to Bertie’s chambers. The feast had been so loud and crowded that they hadn’t had the opportunity to talk since their conversation in the tent earlier. On one hand, Bertie was disappointed because he had missed talking to Roger. But on the other hand, he was suddenly incredibly nervous around him. 

“It’s fine,” Bertie said, keeping his eyes on the steps to avoid staring at Roger’s mouth. “Kate’s a good fighter. And you still made it all the way to the final round.” 

“But now you’ll have to deal with Etta being obnoxious.” 

“She wasn’t so bad. I just owe her some stolen pastries from the kitchens.” 

Roger tsked. “You get them every night at dinner. I don’t understand why you have to steal them.” 

“It’s more fun.” 

He sighed. “Do you want to go get them now? I can come with you to make sure you don’t destroy the place sneaking around.” 

Bertie was about to turn down his offer in favour of going to sleep and mulling over his emotions when he realized that this was the first time Roger had offered to go along with one of his crazy schemes. And it was likely the last crazy scheme he would have before becoming king and having to end his scheming for good. “Would you really?” 

Roger rolled his eyes at the hope in Bertie’s voice. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

They headed down into the kitchens. The cooks had already gone off to bed and left the maids to wash up the dishes from the feast. They talked amongst themselves as they cleaned, their bright laughter echoing off the high ceilings. 

“Alright, they keep the leftover pastries in a cupboard at the back,” Bertie whispered. “If we crawl, they shouldn’t notice us.” 

Roger gave him a disapproving look. “You want to crawl across the kitchen?” 

“Yes,” he said. Bertie got on his hands and knees and scurried into the kitchen before Roger could raise any objections. Bertie heard a soft sigh behind him, followed by the soft shuffling noises of Roger crawling after him. 

They made it halfway across the kitchen before Bertie heard the footsteps of one of the maids coming towards them. 

“Quick! Into the cellar!” he hissed before scrambling down the steps into the open cellar. He swung himself over the edge of the wooden steps to hide underneath the staircase. Roger hopped down after him, sliding into the small space next to him. 

“This was a terrible idea,” he whispered. 

“Shh!” Bertie put a hand over Roger’s mouth without thinking as the voice of the maid drew closer, stopping at the top of the stairs. 

“I liked the one that was cut the very first match,” she said. “Terrible fighting skills, but real pretty.” 

“You have terrible taste! Skill over looks,” one of the other maids called across the kitchen. 

The maid at the top of the stairs laughed. “But I don’t want to kiss their skill, I want to kiss their face!” 

“Mary Beth, you’re awful!” said another maid, laughing. 

The laughter of the first maid faded slightly as she moved away from the stairs. The boys relaxed. Bertie realized that his hand was over Roger’s mouth. He removed it, blushing. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks burning. 

“It’s fine,” Roger whispered. He was peering up at the kitchen through the gap in the stairs. The torches from the kitchen cast streaks of light across his face and Bertie’s heart wrenched in his chest. He really was so beautiful it hurt. “I suppose we’ll have to wait until they’re gone now. Too much risk climbing back up the stairs while they’re still moving around.” 

Bertie wasn’t listening to him anymore, too distracted by how the light caught his eyes, turning them a soft caramel colour that made his knees weak. It also caught in his hair, causing Bertie to notice for the first time that Roger had streaks of lighter hair near his temple. He bit his lower lip as he tried to think of a way out of the cellar without being noticed and Bertie was definitely not staring at it and wondering what it would taste like, what it would feel like to catch that lip between his own teeth, bite down gently enough that it wouldn’t hurt but hard enough that he’d feel something. 

“Bertie?” Roger glanced back at him and without thinking, Bertie leaned forward to press their lips together. 

At first, Roger just stood there, shocked. But after a few moments, he started kissing back and Bertie felt like he was flying. His lips were soft and wet and warm and they felt amazing and he felt amazing and they shouldn’t be doing this, they could be caught any second but he had wanted this for so long, longer than he had know that he wanted it and it was so good and- 

It was over. Roger was pulling away from him, his cheeks flushed and- was that hurt in his eyes? 

“What the hell was that?” he snapped. 

“I- I thought-“ Bertie stuttered, trying to think of something to say that would make this situation better. What had he done wrong? Did Roger not want him to kiss him? But he was kissing him back, everything was fine - right? 

“Clearly you didn’t,” he said, scowl fixed on his face again as he turned and headed up the stairs into the kitchen. There was a loud exclamation from one of the maids and Roger muttered something low enough that Bertie couldn’t hear before the sound of his footsteps faded and the maids went back to their dishes, whispering about the strange guard hiding in the cellar. 

Bertie sunk to the floor and buried his face in his hands. What had he done wrong? Everything had finally been perfect and then he had to screw it up. How was he even going to face Roger tomorrow? He’d have to apologize of course, but how do you apologize without knowing what you had done wrong? 

He was replaying the kiss over again in his head, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong when a loud scream echoed through the halls. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna message me angrily about how terrible I am in this fic, my tumblr is @pillowcreeks. I also take requests and commissions, just fyi.


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